


Kiss Me and Tell Me it's Not Broken

by PrettiestStar17



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexuality, Breakups, Dragons, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Marijuana, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Smoking, Spain, Tattoos, spanish language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-02-23 05:27:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23606335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettiestStar17/pseuds/PrettiestStar17
Summary: Hermione has returned to the U.K. after spending the last eight years working in Spain. Shortly after her arrival, Hermione is unceremoniously dumped and left to navigate her new life with a broken heart. It doesn't take her long to figure out her boss is more interested in her war heroine reputation than her experience. An unexpected ally arises in the form of Charlie Weasley, a man she got to spend one spectacular night with and may still harbor a few lingering feelings for. With help and encouragement from her old flame, Hermione forges a new path for her life and career. Will her past allow Charlie to travel that path with her?
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Charlie Weasley, Lavender Brown/Ron Weasley
Comments: 35
Kudos: 130





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know. I already have so many WIPs going on but I couldn't stop this plot bunny from growing. The title comes from the song To You I Bestow, by Mundy. A few older millennials will know it from the Leo/Claire Danes Romeo and Juliet movie. Hope you enjoy!

Summer 2006

Charlie hated dressing up. He hated pubs and crowds and loud music. But he loved his sister and she had insisted he join her for a pub night with a group of their friends. Her only caveat was that his apparel be free from anything ripped, bitten, or singed, essentially ruling out over half of his wardrobe. 

He let out a sigh as he cinched up his belt and fixed the top button of his shirt. He couldn’t even get a proper drink on. He was catching an early portkey to New Zealand the following morning to aid in rounding up a gang of poachers that had been wreaking havoc on the native dragon population. If he turned up exhausted and hungover, he’d be relegated to dung duty. Indefinitely. 

Charlie, resignedly, completed his look with his dragon tooth pendant, tied back his long hair with a leather strap, and shoved his feet into thick, deep red, dragonhide boots. He checked his reflection as he walked past the full-length mirror and gave it an acceptable shrug. Jeans and a button-up were far from fancy, but there wasn’t a ripped stitch or hole that wasn’t supposed to already be there. If his little sister disapproved, she could just send him home. He was still unsure why she had been so insistent on him being there. 

According to Ginny, he was to arrive at a pub called The Feral Murtlap, at quarter ‘til six. It was a relatively new wizard pub in Wales, right by the Harpies’ Quidditch stadium. Aside from Ginny and himself, Harry, Ron, Fred, George, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood were all expected to be there, most likely along with their significant others. As if his mother’s matchmaking wasn’t enough of a reminder of where his life was lacking…

“Get yourself together, Weasley,” Charlie muttered and shoved his keys into his pocket before grabbing his jacket and apparating from his dingy Edinburgh flat to the rain-soaked streets of Holyhead. He pointed his wand to the sky and performed an umbrella charm before the rain drenched him, too. 

He had apparated to just outside the Quidditch stadium, so he turned north and made his way towards the pub. The combination of no Harpies’ match and the rain left the pathway clear and Charlie hopeful that the pub would prove to be the same. 

When he opened the thick oak door of The Feral Murtlap, his hopes were swept down the gutter with the rest of the soggy city debris. It appeared that the rain had run everyone off the streets and into the pub.

“ ‘Scuse me, sorry,” he said as he maneuvered through the room, trying to spot any familiar faces within the horde while simultaneously avoiding accidentally knocking over the other patrons that he stood a full head taller than.

“Charlie!” a voice called from his left. He looked over his shoulder and saw his bespectacled brother-in-law waving him over to a large table, right next to the bar. Before Charlie could return the wave, a sudden weight landed on his back and arms were wrapped around his neck.

“Look at you! Out and about with actual people,” Ginny said, resting her chin on his shoulder. 

“Hey, Gin.” Charlie smiled and kissed her cheek. “Hold on tight,” he warned and shouldered his way to their table. When he reached their destination, Ginny slid off his back and went to reclaim her seat beside Harry. The other chairs were already filled, with only two empty ones left between Ginny and Luna’s husband, Rolf Scamander. “I like your optimism, sis, but I’m dateless as usual,” he said, sitting down beside Rolf. 

“Good. It’s not for you anyway,” Ginny informed him as she leaned back against Harry and pulled his arm around her shoulders.

“Oh, well, then I’m offended by your assumptions,” Charlie said and stuck out his tongue only to have his sister echo the affectionate gesture. He waved her off and turned to Rolf, who was smiling as he nursed a pint and listened to his wife talk about their latest trip to Belize. “How’s it going, Scamander?”

Charlie and Rolf had built a friendship over the last few years. The Magizoologist made many visits to the dragon sanctuaries around Europe and the two ran into each other frequently. They started talking about Charlie’s impending New Zealand trip, with Rolf suggesting sites for viewing other magical creatures in their natural environment. 

“Room for one more?”

Charlie’s head jerked up at the sound of a voice he hadn’t heard in years. A tanned woman with long, chestnut curls and a turquoise sundress stood behind Ginny. If he hadn’t heard her speak, Charlie wouldn’t have believed it was actually Hermione Granger that Harry was throwing himself at.

“Hermione! What are you doing here?!” Harry cried, launching out of his seat and wrapping Hermione in a hug.

“Your wife didn’t tell you I was moving back?”

“Nope,” Ginny answered for him, a smug smile on her face. “You said you wanted to keep it a surprise.”

“And you actually kept it? For a whole month? Well done, you,” Hermione laughed. She hugged Ginny tightly and then turned to Ron, but stopped short. His youngest brother hadn’t stood up. Instead, he gave Hermione an awkward smile and waved from his seat. “Hello Ron, Lavender,” Hermione greeted, nodding at the couple. “Congratulations on the engagement.”

“Thank you,” Lavender curtly replied, wrapping an arm around Ron’s shoulder and placing a hand on his chest. “You look... nice. Spain suited you well.”

“Thanks,” Hermione said. She reached out as if she was about to pat Ron’s arm, but at the last minute gave him a thumbs up and started making her way around the table to say hello to the rest of the group.

She hugged and greeted everyone, explaining that she had been offered a new position with the Ministry of Magic and it was just too perfect to pass up. She would now be the Deputy Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation.

Charlie stared at her, taking in all the changes since he had last seen her. There were the obvious differences, like her bushy hair being tamed into silky coils that reached the middle of her back, and her glowing, tanned skin. But there was something else. Something in the way she moved and joked and laughed with the others. This Hermione was far from the quiet, shy girl he remembered. This Hermione was easy-going and confident.

“Is this chair for me?” Hermione asked when she got to Charlie. He stared up at her warm hazel eyes and brilliant smile. “Charlie?” He tried to answer her, but at that moment she brushed her hair over her shoulder and his mind wandered back to the last time he’d had his hands buried in those curls.

“Oi, Dragon Tamer!” Hermione called, sitting down and elbowing him in the arm. “Kneazle got your tongue?

“Hey, Q,” Charlie said, rubbing the back of his neck in a desperate hope to keep his blush at bay. This is why he spent the majority of his time with dragons. He always managed to make himself look like a tit in front of humans. “Welcome home.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, but smiled and said, “Thanks, but must you still call me that? It’s been over a decade now.”

He tugged at one of her curls and smiled. “I think we both know that I must.

The first time he had met Hermione, just before she started her fourth year, he teasingly called her “Curlicue”. She had scrunched up her nose in disgust and shook her head. That only just spurred Charlie on, as he delighted in her huffs. Eventually, he just shortened it to Q and Hermione downgraded her death stares to eye rolls.

Harry sat a pint in front of her. Hermione took a long gulp and let out a satisfied sigh as she relaxed back in her chair. “The Spanish know their way around wine but Merlin, I’ve missed a good pint.” A sudden belch sneaked out, making her giggle. “ ‘Scuse me!” she said, quickly covering her mouth. Turning back to Charlie, she said, “Ginny mentioned you had moved back here within the last year or so. What made you give up life at the Romanian reservation?”

“All these nephews and nieces are growing up too quickly. I hated the thought of missing out on it. When they set up the Scottish sanctuary, I was the first to apply for a transfer.”

“I can’t wait to see all the little ones. I’ve been living vicariously through all the pictures Harry sends me and can’t believe how big James and Albus are already. I keep telling Ginny that she needs to have a girl so that Victoire isn’t stuck with a bunch of boys.” She gave a sideways glance at Harry and Ginny.

“And I keep telling you no way in hell,” Ginny retorted.

“You’re no fun,” Hermione pouted.

“Tell ya what. You take the boys for an afternoon. Hell, take ‘em for just _one hour_ and you’ll see why two is more than enough.”

“Plus, Teddy is over so often it’s like we already have three children. We’ll leave the task of producing granddaughters to the others,” Harry said, shooting Ron a smile.

Hermione laughed as the waitress arrived with a tray full of food. She reached over and nicked one of George’s chips, who swatted her hand away. Ginny immediately started drowning her fish and chips in tartar sauce.

“Is that your way of making sure no one steals your food?” Hermione cringed as Ginny capped the sauce and shoved a chip in her mouth.

“It works, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, but at what cost?” Hermione gave a shudder.

“When is Carmen moving over?” Ginny asked around her mouthful of potato.

“Who’s Carmen?” Luna asked.

“Hermione’s gorgeous girlfriend,” Harry answered, earning him an elbow in the gut from his wife. “Hey! Don’t act as if you’ve never had a look!”

“My interest is piqued,” Fred said, leaning forward. “Do you have a picture of this lovely lady?”

“I do indeed,” Hermione said. She picked up her purse and sifted through the contents before she produced a photograph and handed it to Fred. 

George leaned over his twin’s shoulder to have a peak and his eyes went wide. “Damn! How did our little prefect pull a lass like that?”

“First off, I’m not a little prefect anymore,” Hermione said, snatching the picture back. “Second, I was pulling international Quidditch stars in my fourth year. I’ve got a few moves.”

“Star!”

The table’s attention was suddenly pulled to Ron, whose face was rapidly changing to match his hair color.

“Quidditch _star_. Singular,” Ron muttered, sinking down in his seat and avoiding Lavender’s glare.

“Riiiight,” Bill said from the other end of the table. “You gonna pass that picture around or do the rest of us just get to guess at what she looks like?”

“Go on, then,” Hermione said, letting out a breathy laugh. She handed the photo to Charlie. 

The Muggle picture showed Hermione in a barely-there, emerald bikini, kissing the cheek of a dark-haired woman in an iridescent purple one-piece. Carman was tall, lean and her skin a shade darker than Hermione’s tan. She was smiling for the camera as she grabbed Hermione’s arse. The two women stood on a beach, at the water’s edge, looking as if they didn’t have a care in the world.

“She’s very pretty,” Charlie said, passing the photo to Rolf, who gave it a polite glance and nod before handing it off to Luna.

Hermione turned back to Ginny and finally answered the initial question. “Carmen should be moving over soon. There are just a few loose ends she needs to tie up.”

Once the picture was back in Hermione’s purse, the conversations splintered off as everyone properly dug into their food. Charlie caught bits of Lavender’s prattling about wedding plans and Harry and Ron’s assessment of the newest batch of Auror recruits. His attention was ultimately drawn into Hermione and Rolf’s conversation about Spain’s magical creature reserves.

“The Graphorn poaching is getting out of hand,” Hermione said with a frown. “One of the top things on my agenda is to team up with Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and offer our help in strengthening Spain’s anti-poaching laws and consequences.”

“Problem with poachers is they’re like a fucking Hydra. Get rid of one and two more spring up,” Charlie groused. He swirled the last of his beer before gulping it down.

“So young and, yet, so jaded,” Rolf teased.

“Not jaded, just realistic. There will always be scumbags out there looking to make a quick sickle off the innocent. Create new laws, they’ll find new loopholes.”

Hermione frowned and said, “If that’s the case, then what are all of us busting our arses for?”

Charlie gave her a bemused look and said, “Because someone needs to protect them and we certainly can’t rely on those stubborn white hairs in the Wizengamot who refuse to pass along the power to the next generation.”

To his surprise, and relief, Hermione smiled and patted his cheek. “Just had to make sure you hadn’t turned into a complete misanthrope while I was away.” A sudden ringing and buzzing from her purse made her startle. She pulled a mobile phone from a pocket and answered with a cheery, “Hola! Dame un minuto mi amor.” She stood and made her way to the exit.

Charlie continued to talk about poaching policies with Rolf and Luna, but couldn’t help looking out the window and keeping an eye on Hermione. What appeared to start off as a happy conversation under the awning soon dissolved into Hermione angrily pacing as raindrops ran down her bare arms.

“Something’s not right,” Charlie said, interrupting Luna and standing up. “Sorry, I’ll be right back.” He grabbed his coat and made his way outside. He hung back under the awning, continuing to observe as he produced a pack of cigarettes from his inside pocket. Hermione was speaking rapid Spanish and Charlie assumed she was speaking to her girlfriend.

“No te puedo creer!” Hermione cried, as she swiped dampened curls from her face. “No! No! Hice esto por nosotros!” There was a pause and then, “Por cuánto tiempo?” Pause. “Por cuánto tiempo, Carmen?!” 

Charlie didn’t speak much Spanish, but he was able to deduce that something bad was happening and it had been going on for longer than Hermione thought.

“Mierda! Por cuánto tiempo?” Hermione said again, drawing out the last question as if she were speaking to a child. “Todo un puto año?” 

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “No. No. No te preocupes. Espero que estés contenta.” Hermione paused once more and then shouted, “Que te jodan!” before slamming the phone closed and letting loose a frustrated scream.

When she turned around and spotted Charlie, he shrugged off his coat and held it out to her. She pushed her wet hair back and joined him under the awning. Charlie said nothing as he held his cigarette between his lips and helped her into the coat.

“Any chance I might find another one of those in here?” Hermione asked, patting down the coat pockets.

“Left inside pocket, love,” Charlie said, letting a slow stream of smoke seep out his nose.

If she wasn’t in such an angry mood, it would have been comical watching the little witch digging through a coat roughly three times too big for her. 

“How very Muggle of you,” Hermione commented, pulling out the cigarettes and giving the Muggle lighter a shake. She tapped a cigarette out and tucked it between her lips as she worked to place the pack back in the pocket. She didn’t light it though, but balanced it in her lips and pulled the picture of her and Carmen from her purse.

Without a word, she flicked the lighter, but the wind instantly blew it out. After several more attempts, Hermione growled and pulled her wand from the purse. Muttering a quick, “Incendio,” the corner of the picture caught fire. She lit her cigarette off the flames and then silently watched as the shiny paper crinkled and burned, the wind instantly sweeping away the falling ashes. Just before the flame reached her fingertips, Hermione tossed the remains into a storm drain.

“Should have seen this coming,” she sighed, aiming her exhaled smoke in the direction of the gusting winds. “I leave and she picks that moment to let me know she’s spent the last year sleeping with someone else.”

Charlie wasn’t quite sure what to do or say. He wanted to comfort her but didn’t want to make a move that seemed like he was trying to take advantage of her vulnerable state. This is why his co-workers consisted of more dragons than people. Dragons didn’t break your heart and then force you into loud breakups outside a pub. They might break your arm or try to set you on fire but at least you always knew where you stood.

“Sorry, Q,” he finally said. He reached over and gave her free hand a squeeze.

She returned the gesture and flicked her cigarette away. “I need the loo. You coming back in?” she asked.

“Not yet. I’m gonna enjoy the cool air and quiet for a little longer.”

Hermione slipped back into the pub. She returned several minutes later, smoking another cigarette and the scent of whiskey trailing behind her. “Since when did Britain outlaw smoking in pubs? Bloody prudes.”

Charlie let out a quick laugh and shook his head. “Did the whiskey help?” 

“Not in the way I would have liked.” She took one last drag off the cigarette before stubbing it out. “I’m going to head home. Thanks for coming out to check on me and letting me nick a few fags.”

“Anytime, love. How exactly are you planning on getting home?”

“Apparate, of course. Don’t really fancy the floo trip to Edinburgh after three shots of Firewhiskey.”

“Blimey, Hermione,” Charlie muttered, pushing himself away from the wall. “You’re gonna end up splinching yourself.”

“I’m fine, Charlie. I’m not some weak, broken little Crup you have to look after.”

“I know that, you daffy woman. But you are about thirty-seconds away from those shots hitting your brain and having half your body end up in Swindon, where even the drunkest of drunks don’t want to set foot.” He linked his arm through hers and said, “Right, now, where to in Edinburgh are we heading?”

* * *

“Home sweet home,” Hermione said, waving her wand and illuminating her flat.

“It’s nice,” Charlie said, stepping around boxes and suitcases that were piled up in the living room. 

“It’s not much,” Hermione said, handing Charlie’s jacket back to him. “I was only planning on being here until Carman moved over and then we could do a proper house hunt together. Guess I’ll be here longer.” She kicked off her shoes and headed for the kitchen. “Tea?” she called back.

“Sure, can I help you?” Charlie asked as he followed her.

“I may be a few sheets to the wind but I can boil water.” She aimed her wand at the kettle and a few seconds later it started whistling and steaming. “Take your pick,” she said, motioning to a counter. 

Charlie looked over at a collection of tins and shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever you have that’s decaf is good. Want to make sure I get a bit of sleep before I have to set off for New Zealand tomorrow.”

He took a seat at the small, circular table and watched as Hermione prepared the tea and brought it over. She set a mug with brightly colored swirls in front of him while sipping her drink from a shiny black one.

“What do you think of Edinburgh so far?” 

Charlie cringed as he finished his question. He was shite at small talk but didn’t feel it was his place to bring up what had transpired back at the pub. Hermione simply smiled.

“The extra hours of sunlight are nice. I’m not overly fond of all the rain.”

Charlie chuckled and nodded. “Some things never change.”

Hermione sighed and leaned back in her chair, eyes wandering to the window on her right. Charlie followed her gaze and watched as the sun slowly set behind the hills, giving the surrounding landscape a rosy glow.

“She never wanted to come here,” Hermione said softly, clutching her cup of tea with both hands. “I practically had to beg her to at least give it a try. That should have been my first warning sign that things weren’t going to work out. So stupid.”

“Bullshit. I think it’s not stupid to expect your girlfriend to be faithful.”

“It gave her the out she had been looking for, though.” She stood up and motioned to a door. “Would you like to see the view from the balcony?”

“You just want to steal more of my fags.”

“Guilty.” She opened the door and Charlie followed her outside. He passed her a cigarette and lit it for her. 

Hermione took a deep drag and leaned over the wooden railing until the tips of her toes were barely touching the deck. Charlie quickly placed a hand on her shoulder and slowly pulled her back. 

“Where has the cautious, goody two shoes, bookworm Hermione gone?” Charlie laughed.

“Cautious? Goody two shoes? Have you forgotten about all of the shit I got into with Ron and Harry?” She exhaled a puff of smoke and continued, “I intentionally set Snape’s robes on fire during my first year. I held Rita Skeeter hostage in a jar for almost a year. Fifth year, I tried to sacrifice Dolores Umbridge to a herd of centaurs.” She got a wistful look as she peered over Charlie’s shoulder at an old memory. “It really was a shame they didn’t finish her off. Would’ve made our Horcrux hunt a bit easier.”

“I’m still correct about the bookworm.”

Hermione pushed her hair back and grinned. “Some things never change, right?” She leaned her back against the railing and her grin softened. “I’m glad you came out tonight, Charlie. I was wondering if I was going to see you.”

“You know Ginny. She’s very persuasive.”

‘“You mean nagging to the point that you cave just to shut her up?”

“I mean that in the most loving sense.”

“I’d never think otherwise.”

Charlie sighed and took one more glance at the final sliver of sunlight illuminating the hills. He was enjoying the calm, intimate moment with Hermione, away from chattering pub patrons, clacking billiard balls, and loud music. 

“I really don’t want to, but I’m afraid I have to get going.” He used his fingers to pinch and extinguish his cigarette, then wandlessly vanished it away. He’d be lying if he said Hermione’s impressed expression didn’t make his heart beat a bit faster. The last eight years had been good to her in many ways and it was almost impossible to keep a few old feelings from resurfacing.

“I’ll walk you out.” She handed him her dying cigarette, an expectant smirk on her face. He took it and gave it the same treatment as his. “Do you have any feeling left in your fingertips?”

“They’ve gotten used to being scorched.” He followed her back inside and to the door. As he went to open it, he turned and gave Hermione a sympathetic smile. “I’m really sorry about what happened with Carmen. I’m only a few miles away from here, on the outskirts of the city. If you ever need anything don’t hesitate to ask.” He turned the knob then stopped again, saying, “Well, in two weeks that is. I’ll be back in two weeks.”

“Thanks, Char. Have a great trip.” She gave him a hug and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Hermione.” Charlie kissed the top of her head and stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. He heard her clicking the locks into place when one last thought popped into his head and he gave a quick knock on the door. 

A lock clicked again and Hermione partially opened the door, leaving the chain lock in place. “Forget something?”

“Please stay off the balcony until you’ve sobered up.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Twenty-seven...twenty-eight...twenty-nine...thirty! Ready or not, here I come!”

Hermione turned away from the wall she had been facing and glanced around the room. She bit her lip to stop from laughing at the toddler crouched down in the corner opposite her. Albus Potter still hung onto the logic of ‘if I can’t see you, you can’t see me,’ when it came to hide and seek.

“Now, where could those silly boys be?” she called and started making a spectacle of looking behind the curtains and under the sofa. Albus started giggling when she wandered into the kitchen to see if he was in the sink. “I hear someone!”

She snuck around the hallway, coming into the living room from the second doorway. Albus’ little head was poking around the corner of the other entryway, trying to see if Hermione was still in the kitchen. She crept right up to him and gave him a tickle as she declared, “Found Al!” Albus giggled his head off as Hermione draped him over her shoulder and headed for the stairs. “Let’s go find that brother of yours.”

“Jamie good hider,” Albus said with a hiccup.

“Is he now?” Hermione shifted the little boy to her hip. “It just so happens that your aunty is a very good seeker.”

“Daddy Seeker,” Albus replied, making Hermione laugh.

After a ten minute search, Hermione started getting a bit frantic. She apparently  _ wasn’t _ a very good seeker. Harry and Ginny would be back from their weekend getaway any minute and she had lost their oldest child. Chewing on her bottom lip, she sat down on the top step and started trying to collect her thoughts.

“How far could a four-year-old get in thirty seconds?” she asked.

“Jamie divishible,” Albus said, plopping down next to her. 

Hermione frowned in confusion. “He’s what, sweetheart?”

“Divishible. No see Jamie.”

“Oh, you mean  _ invisible _ ?”

“Yesh.”

Hermione dropped her face into her hands. The little scamp had found Harry’s invisibility cloak.

“This is what you get when you name your child James Sirius Potter,” she muttered, getting to her feet. Picking up Albus, Hermione called out, in a loud sing-song voice, “Oh well, we can’t find James. I guess I’ll give all my Chocolate Frogs to Al!”

In the kitchen, she strapped Albus into his high chair, stripped off his shirt, and let him dig into his chocolate. As she did, she kept a close watch on the box she had set on the edge of the table. It wasn’t long before she heard little feet padding across the tile and a disembodied hand floating towards the chocolate. A moment later a disgruntled, “Hey!” indicated that Hermione’s sticking charm had worked.

She lifted the invisibility cloak, revealing a smirking James, clutching his chocolate frog box. “Hi, Aunt ‘Mione!” he chirped.

“Hi, James!” Hermione knelt down to the young wizard’s level and gave him what she hoped was a look of seriousness. “I know I’m still new around here, but I find it hard to believe your daddy lets you play with this.” James just grinned at her. “You had me worried, mister. Plus, I’m pretty sure this counts as cheating in hide and seek.”

“Sorry, Aunt ‘Mione.”

“If I unstick you, do you promise not to get into your mum and dad’s stuff again?” James nodded and Hermione lifted the spell. As James ripped the top off his chocolate frog package, the whoosh of the floo sounded from the living room. “Found you just in time,” Hermione said, ruffling the little boy’s untidy hair.

“We’re home,” Ginny called. She came into the kitchen and beamed at her chocolate-covered sons. “I missed you guys,” she said, placing several loud kisses on both their cheeks.

“Fog, mama!” Albus squealed, holding up the melted remains of his treat.

“I see. Aunt Hermione didn’t spoil you at all, did she?”

“Quien? Yo?” Hermione asked in faux shock. “Nunca!”

“Aunty ‘Mione taught me how to count in ‘panish,” James informed his mother. “Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco.”

“Well done, sweetheart.” Ginny turned to Hermione and asked, “How were they?”

“They were wonderful. A few fights over toys, but nothing we couldn’t handle. Right, James?”

“Right!” James agreed.

“Though you might want to make sure your husband hides his Hallows better.” Hermione held up Harry’s invisibility cloak and explained, “James got creative with Hide and Seek.”

“Harry!” Ginny yelled, making Hermione jump. 

“Yes, dear,” Harry said, appearing in the kitchen doorway.

“You told me you put this in a place the boys couldn’t reach,” the redhead said, pursing her lips and holding up the cloak. 

“I did,” Harry said, taking it from her. “It was on the top shelf of our closet, folded and out of sight.”

The three adults glanced down at James as he shoved the last hunk of chocolate into his mouth. “More?” he asked hopefully, plastering on a charming grin.

“I believe somebody is experiencing a bit of accidental magic.” Hermione gave Harry and Ginny a ‘good luck with that’ look. “Did you have a nice weekend?”

“Gods, yes,” Ginny sighed, wiping down James’ hands and face. “It feels like forever since we’ve had the chance to get more than a few hours to ourselves. Thank you so much for staying with these two.”

“You’re more than welcome. I love getting to spend all the time I can with them. Oh, before I forget, your mum invited everyone to dinner tomorrow night since no one was around for the usual Sunday tea. You two better be there because she’s already upset that I won’t be, again.”

Ginny gave her a sympathetic smile as she lifted Albus from his high chair and gave him a kiss before letting him run off to the living room after his big brother. With a wave of her wand, the chocolate mess was cleared from the tray and she tossed the dishcloth into the sink as Harry returned. 

“I’ve locked it in the safe,” he announced. “That should keep little hands away from it. What did I miss?”

“We were just getting to the sad state of affairs that is my love life,” Hermione bemoaned, running a hand through her hair. “Or lack thereof.”

Harry frowned and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You’re too good for her ‘Mione. She doesn’t deserve you.”

“Thanks,” Hermione said, giving him a weak smile. “It’s fine, though. I’m fine.”

“Are you?” Ginny asked, not buying Hermione’s lie. She took the seat across from Hermione and studied her face. “It’s okay if you’re not, you know?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I mean, it hasn’t been easy.” 

_ ‘Understatement!’ _ her mind screamed.

“But I’m getting through it. The new job has helped with keeping my mind distracted during the day.”

“And what about at night?” Harry asked, giving her a pointed look.

“I have a few coping mechanisms getting me through the nights.”

_ ‘Wine and cigarettes are NOT coping mechanisms!’  _ her mind scolded

“Hermione, you don’t have to pretend--” 

Harry was cut off with Ginny placing a firm hand on his arm. She gave him an unblinking scowl before turning back to Hermione and saying, “You know we’re always here if you need to talk, cry, yell, or just keep you company. Anytime, day or night.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said. She looked up at Harry and smiled. She knew her friend meant well, but the last thing she needed at the moment was a lecture. Lecturing herself was something she had done plenty the past two weeks. “I’m fine, Harry. It’s not the first time I’ve had my heart broken.” Hermione summoned her purse and slung it over her shoulder. “I’m going to head out. Need to stop at the supermarket before I go home.”

“Boys! Come say goodbye to Aunty ‘Mione!” Ginny called.

James and Albus came careening into the kitchen and Hermione knelt down to scoop them into a big hug, planting kisses all over their cheeks until they squealed and wriggled out of her arms, yelling, “Bye! Bye!”

Standing back up, Hermione hugged Ginny and Harry. “Thank you for letting me spend time with your children. It was a fun weekend.”

“I’ll note that for the future,” Ginny said, kissing Hermione’s cheek and giving her one last squeeze. “Floo us if you need anything.”

“I will.” Hermione waved and apparated to an alley that was behind a supermarket located on the edge of Edinburgh. 

There were plenty of shops closer to her but she had come to find, in her very short time as an Edinburgh resident, that this one was her favorite. It was a Muggle shop that was rarely ever busy and Hermione was able to take her time browsing the shelves and inspecting produce without being recognized. 

Hermione grabbed a plastic basket as she made her way through the automatic doors. She started gliding up and down the aisles, tossing in ingredients to make paella and a few other staples to get her through the week. After stocking up on spices, Hermione turned and immediately bumped into a woman that had come to a complete stop at the end of the aisle.

“Shit, sorry,” she apologized, taking a step back and moving to squeeze around the woman and her trolley.

“No worries,” the woman responded without even looking back.

Hermione followed her stare and immediately saw what had captured the woman’s attention. A very fit gentleman was bent over a chest freezer, putting his denim-clad backside on display as his grey t-shirt rode up an inch. A quick scan showed several other customers staring as if they were gazing at the Mona Lisa. Hermione gave it an appreciative nod before winding her way around the woman and continuing on with her shopping. 

At the till she emptied her overflowing basket onto the belt and started digging through her bag for her wallet of Muggle money. 

“Are you preparing dinner for an entire Quidditch team?”

Hermione looked up and was met by the amused face of Charlie Weasley. She rolled her eyes and nodded to his basket. “I didn’t realize there was a Sad Bachelor Essentials aisle?”

“Ouch, that stings, Q,” Charlie said dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “I just got back from New Zealand and there’s no food in my flat,” he chuckled as he placed a jar of peanut butter, loaf of bread, two jars of pickles, and a package of frozen chicken nuggets.

Hermione took in his grey shirt and chanced a glance at his trousers and smirked. “Mona Lisa of the freezer.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Hermione laughed. She turned back to her items that were now being scanned by a very bored-looking cashier. With a heavy sigh, she motioned to her groceries and said, “I’m still not quite used to cooking for one.”

“Better than not being able to cook at all,” Charlie countered. “Though, I do make a mean peanut butter and pickle sandwich.”

You’re killing me, Charlie,” Hermione said with a grimace. “Would you like to come over for a proper meal?”

Charlie smiled and nodded. “My sad bachelor food can wait for another day.”

* * *

  
  


A half-hour later, Charlie flooed to Hermione’s flat. As he made his way to the kitchen, Hermione came out of her bedroom looking freshly showered. 

“I got back and discovered a half-chewed Bertie Botts in my hair,” she explained, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. “Harry and Ginny really have their work cut out for them with those two boys.”

“Oh yeah, James and Al can get into an infinite amount of mischief together.” 

“Help yourself to a drink. There’s beer in the fridge if you’re so inclined.”

As Hermione pulled out pots and pans, Charlie grabbed a bottle of beer from the refrigerator and tried his damndest to keep his eyes off the sway of her hips. Settling down into a kitchen chair, he sent the bottle cap sailing into the bin with a snap of his fingers. He couldn’t help but chuckle when he heard Hermione mutter, “Show off.”

“So, what are you making for me?” he asked, taking a long draught of his beer. 

Hermione glanced over her shoulder and gave him a look that instantly had him sitting up straighter.

“I know your mother is possessive of her kitchen but in mine, cooking is not a spectator sport.” She set a bag of vegetables in front of him, along with a knife and cutting board. “Get chopping, cupcake, por favor y gracias.”

“There really is no such thing as a free meal,” Charlie sighed, grabbing a pepper and slicing it in half. 

It wasn’t long before tantalizing smells were wafting off the stovetop and Charlie was eagerly waiting to tuck into a plate of paella. He had never had the dish before but the spicy scent had his mouthwatering and counting down the minutes until it was ready. 

“Charlie!”

Hermione’s sudden screech had him jumping from his seat and pointing his wand around the room at an unknown threat.

“You’re back is bleeding!”

“Merlin’s sake, Hermione,” Charlie groaned, lowering his wand. “You scared the shit out of me.” He glanced over his shoulder and saw a bloody patch slowly spreading over his t-shirt. “I got grazed by a poacher’s hex earlier. Paul had fixed me up but it would appear as though his healing ability is shoddy.”

“Come into the living room and I’ll fix it properly.”

Knowing it was pointless to argue, Charlie did as she said and made his way to the couch. Hermione perched behind him and gave his shirt a tug, saying, “Take this off and I’ll soak the stain out.”

“It’s fine, Q. This isn’t exactly my fanciest shirt.”

“I don’t really care about your shirt. I’m more concerned about you getting blood on all my furniture. Now, strip.”

Charlie shook his head but smiled and proceeded to pull the soiled shirt over his head. Hermione sent the shirt flying to the bathroom as a white box came zooming onto her lap. He heard her shaking a can and then she gave him a warning of, “This might sting a bit,” before blasting his shoulder with a spray that set his raw skin on fire.

“Must you with the Muggle torture tools?” He hissed.

“Oh, please! You’ve been walking around with a gaping wound all day and you’re gonna cry over a little antiseptic spray?”

“I’m not crying,” Charlie said petulantly, pursing his lips in an exaggerated pout.

Hermione tsked as she ran her wand over the cut and back again. There was a slight pinching as the skin knitted back together but the pain was soothed as Hermione grazed her fingers across his shoulder. He sucked in a quick breath as her touch continued down his spine.

“These are new,” she said softly and Charlie felt her hand glide back up and tap the first of his rune tattoos. “Protection,” she said and then her fingers proceeded to dance over the others “Endurance. Travel. Family. Honor.” She lingered on the last one before concluding, “Peace.”

“Someone remembers her ancient runes.”

“One of my favorite classes.” She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and stood up. “I think I have a shirt that will fit you while I wash yours up.”

Charlie stood up and stretched his arms over his head. “Thank you, Healer Granger. Good as new,” he declared, turning to face her. 

“You’re wel--Oh.” Her eyes widened for a split second before she said, “Those are new, too,” she said, nodding at his chest. 

He glanced down and realized she was talking about the two ravens perched on either side of his chest. 

“Just added them a few months ago. They’re--”

“Hugin and Munin,” Hermione finished, taking a step forward for a closer look. “Odin’s ravens. They’re beautiful. Whoever your artist is, they do amazing work.” She gazed at the birds for another moment and slowly reached out to touch one, but then quickly withdrew and planted her hand firmly on the first-aid kit. “I’ll go get you that shirt.”

Hermione hastily retreated down the short hallway and disappeared into what Charlie assumed was her bedroom. He quietly waited for her, feeling oddly exposed but not because of his lack of clothing. 

His skin was still reeling from her touch. Was it possible to miss something that was never truly yours? His time with Hermione had been short and fleeting, barely a drop of water in his bucket of time on earth. Yet her briefest of touches made his body feel as though it was awakening from an eight-year-long dream. 

“I’m sure it comes as no surprise that I don’t have many men’s clothing in my possession,” Hermione called, reappearing in the hallway. The first-aid kit had been replaced with a rolled-up piece of pink fabric. “But, I still have this souvenir from a one-night stand several years ago.”

Charlie took her offering and shook out a pink polo shirt. He couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose as he held the garment at arm’s length.

“You actually slept with a guy that was wearing a pink shirt? This pink shirt?” he asked in disbelief.

“Yes.” She crossed her arms and locked him into an unblinking stare. “I’ve also slept with women that wore black shirts and shoved fake dicks in their underwear. Is there a point to your question?” 

Too afraid to say anything more on the subject, Charlie shook his head and slipped the shirt over his head. It was a bit tight but would do until his own was cleaned up.

“See, it’s not that bad. Besides,” she cooed, patting his cheek, “I think you look cute in pink.” 

“Right, cute…” Charlie sighed. 

They returned to the kitchen just as the timer started to ring. While Hermione put the finishing touches on the dish, Charlie tossed the salad together. Before long, Hermione was placing a skillet full of paella between them, along with a loaf of crusty bread and a bottle of red wine. 

“Salud,” Hermione said, raising her wine glass.

“Salud,” Charlie echoed, clinking his glass against hers. After a small sip of the fruity drink, he scooped a hearty bite of rice, veggies, and sausage onto his fork and tucked in. “Mmm, Merlin, that’s good,” he said, nodding his head. “I need to run into you at the market more often.”

Hermione let out an amused hum. “I’m glad you like it. And I’m glad you were able to join me. Paella is a dish meant to be shared.”

Charlie smiled and said, “Thank you for sharing it with me,” before shoveling another bite into his mouth.

* * *

  
  


“I don’t have much in the way of dessert,” Hermione said, pushing aside boxes in her cabinet before finding the biscuits she had tucked away during her stress eating the previous week. “How do Hobnobs and Custard Creams sound?”

“Perfect,” Charlie replied, clinking his spoon against his coffee mug before placing it in the sink. 

“I accessorized the balcony so we can sit comfortably out there.” 

She dumped the biscuits onto a plate and Charlie followed her out onto the balcony with his coffee and hers. Hermione had purchased two red chairs with soft charcoal cushions to set on either side of a charcoal metal table, which was currently playing host to an overflowing ashtray.

“Sorry,” Hermione said sheepishly, vanishing the cigarette butts and casting a cleansing spell on the table.

“Been a bit stressed these last few weeks?” Charlie laughed, sitting the coffees down on either side of the biscuit plate. 

“I really have been meaning to quit. Dealing with a breakup and a new job aren’t ideal conditions for it, though.”

“Hey, you don’t have to explain anything to me. What do you think I’ll be doing in about fifteen minutes?”

Hermione hummed and nodded. “Maybe when the time comes, we can team up and be quitting buddies?”

“I’m gonna hold you to that.” Charlie winked at her and grabbed a custard cream. “So, I’ve been curious. Why have you suddenly decided to come back to the U.K.? Last I talked to you, you were dead set against working for the British Ministry.” He dunked the biscuit in his coffee and stuffed it in his mouth.

Hermione grimaced. “How can you dip biscuits in coffee? Tea, yes. Coffee? Blech.”

“Stop avoiding the question,” Charlie said, spraying crumbs

“Fiiiiine,” Hermione sighed and took a long sip of her coffee. “It was anything but sudden. It took me almost 4 months to accept Minister Doowell’s offer.”

“Dowell,” Charlie scoffed.

“Yeah, why the hell did Kingsley step down? He was the best thing to happen to the Ministry in the past two decades.”

“Claimed he only took the position to get things back on the right track but he ultimately belongs with the Aurors. I know Ron and Harry are happy to have him heading up the DMLE again but there aren’t many that are pleased with his replacement.” Charlie snagged a Hobnob and drowned it in his coffee.

“If it had been Kingsley I probably would have accepted the position quicker but I wasn’t so sure about Doowell. Still not, if I’m perfectly honest. But after a lot of debate, I decided that with this position I’d be able to get more desperately needed changes pushed through and there would be more opportunity to rise up the ranks. Ultimately it came down to where I could do the most good and I decided to take a chance back here.”

“I hope it goes well with Doowell. I don’t have much interaction with him. What I can glean from Dad is that he seems like a mix of Fudge and Scrimgeour.”

“That doesn’t boost my confidence,” Hermione grumbled, biting into a Hobnob. “So far things have been fine. I saw him for my first-day orientation but after that, he’s pretty much left me to it. I prefer it that way at the moment. The last thing I need is someone hovering over my shoulder.”

Charlie smiled at her and said, “Well, whatever the reason, it’s nice to have you back,” and a shiver went down her spine. She was still coming off the high of having him shirtless in her living room. He shouldn’t still be having that effect on her. It wasn’t fair!

_ ‘When has life ever been fair?’  _ Hermione thought, summoning the pack of cigarettes from her coat pocket. She shook one out and passed the pack to Charlie. He pulled a lighter from his pocket and held it out to her. 

Hermione’s first drag was long and slow. She curved her lips into an O and puffed out little smoke rings. 

“Fun party trick,” Charlie commented, reaching up and poking his finger at a ring to break it. “So, you want to talk about it?”

“By it, I assume you mean  _ her _ and no, not really. I’ve been trying to block her from my mind.” Hermione flicked her ash over the banister and looked out over the hills, refusing to meet Charlie’s eyes.

“And how’s that working out for you?” He silently waited while Hermione stubbornly avoided answering, taking another hit of nicotine. “Hermione?”

“It’s working out just dandy!” Hermione snapped. “How do you think it’s going, Charlie? I got my heart ripped out by someone I loved and have been self medicating with wine and nicotine! My mood varies between wanting to go rip her fucking hair from her scalp to begging her for another chance. My brief periods of relief come when I get one or two hours of restless sleep each night.”

“Have you been talking to anyone about how you’ve been feeling?” Charlie gently asked.

“I’m working through it, okay? The last thing I want is more pitying looks from Harry and Ginny. And even if I wanted to talk to Ron, I’m pretty sure Lavender has a ‘hex first, ask questions later’ policy when it comes to me.” Hermione sighed and violently stabbed out her cigarette. “It’s not the first time I’ve been dumped and I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

Charlie took his time finishing the last of his fag as he studied Hermione. She quickly became unnerved under his stare and looked out over the landscape again. The wind picked up, causing goose pimples to prickle on her bare arms. She swished her wand to cover them in a warming charm and then drew her feet onto the chair and her knees to her chest.

Finally, Charlie pinched out the end of his cigarette and tossed the butt into the ashtray. He pulled his chair closer and placed a hand on her knee.

“I’m not going to offer you some cliche phrase about plenty of fish and deserving better, though you totally do. I know what you’re going through, though, so if you want to talk just give me a yell. I’ll even supply the fags and wine for the night.”

“Thanks, Charlie,” she whispered, pinching her lips as a tear leaked down her cheek. 

He pulled her to her feet and wrapped her in a hug. Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed tightly, letting a few more tears slip out 

“Have you ever thought of joining a gym?” Charlie asked suddenly.

Hermione let out an offended gasp and pushed him away. “It hasn’t been an easy two weeks! I’m sorry if--”

“I’m sorry! Hermione, I didn’t mean it like that!” Charlie interrupted, holding up his hands before Hermione could slap him. “Merlin, I’m sorry that came out so insensitive. I didn’t mean--you’re not--Christ!” He slapped his hands over his face and groaned. “Look, you’re fit as fuck and absolutely gorgeous!”

“Go on,” Hermione said, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes.

“You seem to be harboring some pent up aggression and I was just going to suggest that going to the gym might be a healthy way to let some of it out. Plus, it might help you sleep a little better.”

“I’ll think about it,” Hermione replied. She grabbed her empty cup and gave Charlie’s stomach a backhanded slap as she moved past to the door.

He let out a surprised “Oof!” but chuckled as he followed her with the biscuit plate. 

With a quick summons, Charlie’s grey t-shirt came zooming in from the bathroom. Pleased that it was dry and free of bloodstains, she handed it back to him. He wasted no time stripping the pink polo off his chest and tossing it to Hermione. 

“You do look nice in pink,” she said with a smirk as he slipped his own shirt on. “You should think about adding a shade or two to your wardrobe.”

“Yeah, so I can make myself an easier target on the reserve?” Charlie grinned and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Thank you for sharing your excellent healing and cooking talents with me tonight.”

“Anytime.”

“I’ll remember that when I run out of pickles and peanut butter.”

Hermione scrunched up her nose and shook her head. “I’m gonna tell your mother about your cabinet contents.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He just laughed when she stuck out her tongue. “Goodnight, Hermione.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Oh, god, yes!” Hermione hissed, resting her head back against the cool tile. Warm water was cascading over her body as a skilled tongue swirled around her clit. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this relaxed. 

Hermione buried a hand in the raven hair of Isabelle, the woman currently kneeling before her, and used her other to pinch her own nipple. When she thrust forward, Isabelle sucked and Hermione had to bite her lip to keep from screaming and letting her cries of pleasure echo through the bathroom. 

Glancing down, Isabelle was looking up as her tongue rapidly flicked at Hermione’s clit, over and over. Hermione’s lips pursed, her release oh so close. Isabelle shot her an evil grin before plunging two fingers into Hermione’s core and sending her head back to the tile. She couldn’t help but let a mewl escape as Isabelle’s nimble fingers crooked against her swollen center.

“Fuck, I need to come! Please, make me come,”’ Hermione begged, pinching and pulling at her nipple. 

Isabelle pumped her fingers in and out as her tongue buzzed over Hermione’s clit. Less than a minute later, Hermione pulled at the soaked raven locks and let out a choked scream as her body pulsed and she came undone. Isabelle’s pumps and licks slowed as Hermione collapsed against the shower wall. 

As she stood, Isabelle ran her hands up Hermione’s slick, wet body, caressing her breasts and leaning in to thrust her tongue into Hermione’s mouth. Hermione could taste her own orgasm on the woman’s lips and she let out a purr. She adored when her lovers shared the taste of their hard work. Hermione grabbed Isabelle’s arse and held her close, letting her own tongue lazily swirl around Isabelle’s.

“Mmm, I’m so glad I decided on your cycling class,” Hermione hummed as Isabelle’s mouth moved to her neck. “This has definitely started my morning off right.”

“Will you be at Thursday’s session?” Isabelle asked, nipping at the slick skin of Hermione’s shoulder. 

“With bells on.”

“Can’t wait.” Then Isabelle bit down on the sensitive flesh and sucked, causing Hermione to gasp and almost make the woman take her a second time. 

Instead, she watched as Isabelle pulled away and smirked before leaving Hermione alone in the shower stall. 

“Fuck,” Hermione breathed, pulling herself directly under the spray of the shower. She was gonna have to fix up a gourmet feast to thank Charlie for his gym suggestion. After a quick shampoo and wash, she wrapped herself up in a towel and hurried to her locker. The clock was telling her she had fifteen minutes to get herself dressed and presentable for work. 

Thankfully she was alone in the locker room and was able to perform a quick, drying spell on her hair. After hurriedly pulling on her black slacks and a white button-up shirt, she took stock of her reflection. As she hastily applied eyeshadow and lipstick, Hermione debated about what to do about the bite mark on her neck. She really should heal it before she got to the Ministry, but the thought of keeping it turned her on. She settled on leaving it and letting her robes cover it up. 

As she made her way to the exit, Hermione saw Isabelle standing at the front desk, chatting with the receptionist. Her hair had been dried and pulled up into an immaculate high ponytail and her toned cyclist body was back in a purple lycra tank and matching shorts.

Hermione winked when she caught the instructor’s eye, calling out, “See you Thursday!”

An impromptu shag in the shower was not how she had planned to start her Tuesday morning but it was a welcomed addition. She had taken Charlie’s advice and joined a gym located in the center of Edinburgh. Her initial plan had been to go after work to release some of her stress on a treadmill or elliptical. Then she saw some of the classes the center offered and cycling caught her attention. A few of her friends back in Spain swore that cycling had ‘changed their lives’. She didn’t put that much stock in the activity but thought it was worth a try. 

She never expected to spend the entire class eye-fucking the beautiful instructor. As Isabelle called out directions, she barely took her eyes off Hermione. It confused Hermione at first because she was not even close to the fittest one in the class. There were women there that looked like they lived in the gym and had their workout clothes sewn on them. Hermione had on a pair of old spandex shorts and a t-shirt, that she’d cut into a crop top, thrown over a sports bra.

But ten-minutes in and Isabelle was still watching her like a hawk so Hermione joined in on the silent flirting. When the class ended, Hermione hung back, mopping sweat from her face and sipping from her water bottle. As the final person left, she trailed along and said, “I’ll be in the shower,” when she passed by Isabelle. There was no hesitation in her accepting the invite.

In a safe spot, out of the public’s eye, Hermione pulled on her robes and apparated to the Ministry. She made it to her department level with three minutes to spare so she detoured into the break room to make herself a cup of tea and snag the last scone from the breakfast cart.

When she got to her office, several memos were hovering over her desk. She plucked each one from the air, giving their message a quick scan before dropping them to the side. Two were reminders from the department head about the meetings they had that afternoon and the last was a Ministry wide memo about hourly workers filling out the appropriate overtime request forms.

The morning was spent hunched over stacks of translated documents, researching other European countries’ magical beings and creature laws. She had decided her first independent project would be to put together and propose a set of laws that could be implemented across the continent when it came to the treatment those who wizards deemed inferior and tended to oppress. She didn’t think that 

She completely lost herself in her work and was startled when someone knocked on her door. “Come in,” she called. As she straightened her back a few joints cracked in protest making her cringe.

“Hey, you okay?” Harry asked, coming in and closing the door behind him. 

“Yeah, fine. I’ve just been sitting in this chair for too long.”

“Would you like to join me and Ron for lunch? I’m meeting him at the cafe up the street.”

“Will Lavender be there?” Hermione asked warily. When Harry smiled and shook his head, she said, “Sure, that would be nice. It’s been a while since it was just us three.” She stretched her arms over her head and went to stand up. Forgetting about the intense workout she had given her legs, she gasped and grabbed the edge of her desk as her knees buckled.

“ ‘Mione!” Harry cried, rushing to her side and supporting her weight against his side. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine. I had an intense cycling class this morning and it’s gonna take my muscles some time to get used to it.”

“Cycling? When did you join a gym?” Harry slowly let go as Hermione steadied herself.

“I signed up last week.” Hermione stripped off her robes and hung them. She brought a leg up behind her, grabbed her ankle and stretched out the muscles, then repeated the process with the other leg. “I’m attempting to channel my aggression into something more constructive than cigarettes and alcohol. It was Charlie’s suggestion.”

“You’ve been seeing Charlie?” Harry’s eyebrow arched suspiciously. 

“I had him over for dinner not long ago. It doesn’t go any further than that,” Hermione assured, throwing her purse over her shoulder.

“Hmm. So, where did that,” Harry’s hand shot out a finger grazed her neck, “come from?”

Hermione flushed and quickly covered the bite mark with her palm. “That would be a souvenir from cycling class. The instructor was impressed with my...uh... performance.”

Harry smirked and opened the office door. “Still the teacher’s pet, eh? The secret to your top marks is finally revealed.”

“Oh, god! Harry, that’s horrible!” She slapped his arm as she walked out with unseemly images of Flitwick, Sprout, and ghostly Professor Binns popping into her mind. “I am never going to forgive you for these mental images.”

Harry let out his best evil laugh as he shut the door and Hermione cast a lock and security spell. His laugh had died down to an amused hum by the time they reached the lifts. 

“Seriously, though, you’re looking a lot better,” Harry said as the lift doors opened and they stepped in.

“You’re saying I haven’t been looking good?” Hermione pushed the button for the main lobby.

“Not that you haven’t been looking good, but definitely stressed and rough around the edges.” Harry glanced at her and smiled. “I noticed that you haven’t been covering up your scar.”

Hermione instinctively pulled her right arm across her stomach. She hated the jagged white line that spanned the length of her inside forearm. It had only been within the last two years, since being with Carmen, that she was comfortable enough to not hide it with long sleeves or a glamour charm. 

“To be honest, I haven’t really thought much about it since I’ve been back. More pressing matters on my mind.”

“It’s just nice to know that the confident Hermione is still in there.” He briefly placed his hand on her arm.

The lift dinged and the doors opened, letting them out. They stepped out into the lobby and Hermione froze when she spotted a cluster of Daily Prophet reporters and photographers. “Shit,” she hissed, spinning around to get back in the lift but the doors had closed.

“Keep your head down and move quickly,” Harry whispered, barely moving his lips. “They haven’t spotted you yet and the apparition point isn’t far.”

Hermione nodded and took a deep, steadying breath. She grasped Harry’s elbow and let him lead the way. It took some effort to keep up with his long strides but she managed. They were only a few meters away when she heard someone yell, “It’s her! She’s with Potter!”

Hermione glanced just as a flashbulb went off in her face. Momentarily blinded, she clung tighter to Harry as a jumble of indiscernible questions were thrown at her. Saying nothing, Harry pushed through the mob, pulling her along as gently as possible. “Hold tight,” he said before the pull of apparition left her momentarily breathless. 

When her feet hit solid ground again, Hermione rapidly blinked. She could smell fresh air and there were bits of blue between the white spots in her vision. “Where are we?” she asked, closing her eyes and trying to will her eyes back to normal.

“A small park about a block away from the cafe,” Harry answered, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “You should be back to normal in a minute.”

“Why can’t they leave me alone?” Hermione growled, eyes still closed. “I am not an exciting person! This is why I left the fucking country in the first place. They want to spin everything into some big scoop and all I want to do is go to lunch like a normal person.”

“Give it another couple weeks and the novelty will wear off. You left without giving them a chance to harass you so it would seem as though they’re making up for lost time.”

“Fucking brilliant.” Hermione sighed and slowly opened her eyes. The bright sunshine stung a bit but she was able to make out shapes and figures. “Let’s go. I’m hungry and I can’t guarantee I won’t start throwing punches if they turn up and shove another camera in my face.”

Ron was already at the cafe when they arrived, tucked into a booth in the back with a sandwich and bowl of soup. Harry and Hermione placed their orders at the counter and then joined him with their drinks.

“What took you two so long?” Ron asked between bites.

“Ambushed by The Prophet,” Hermione said, sipping her iced coffee. “The bastards blinded me.”

Ron frowned. “Sorry ‘Mione. They dogged Harry and me for almost a year after the war. Even now they’ll still spin nothing into something on a slow news day.” He cleared his throat and impersonated a newscaster saying, “Daily Prophet exclusive! Auror Weasley is wearing the same boots as Head Auror Kingsley! Has the DMLE been secretly sponsored by Fantasy Footwear?” He rolled his eyes.

“Well, is your department secretly sponsored by Fantasy Footwear?” Hermione asked, trying to keep her face serious.

“No. The sad fact is that that is it’s the only place I can find that carries boots to fit my awkward clown feet.” Ron shrugged and took another bite of his sandwich.

“All I wanted to do was quietly sneak back into the country and start this new job. I figured there might be a story or two about it but was hoping it wouldn’t turn into a circus.” A waiter came by and set down Hermione’s salad and Harry’s burger. “Thank you,” she said, grabbing the dressing and drizzling it over the chicken and veggies.

“If you haven’t noticed subtlety is not Doowell’s style,” Harry laughed, squirting ketchup on to his sandwich. “The man thrives on fame and notoriety.”

“Wish I would have known that a few months ago,” Hermione muttered, stabbing a tomato so aggressively that it flew from her plate and into Ron’s soup.

Ron stirred his soup and fished out the bisque-covered tomato. “Want this back?”

“No, I’m good, thanks.” She grabbed her knife and cut the rest of the little tomatoes in half. “I have to ask though because everyone in my department lacks a humor gene, how many puns are made with his name?”

“Ahh, you would  _ do well  _ to stop by our break room and check our  _ well-to-do _ tally chart,” Harry sniggered.

“We keep a weekly count,” Ron explained further. “You’d think it would get old after the first month but it would appear we’re a department full of adult primary students.”

The trio happily chatted as their lunch break wound down. They stayed at the cafe until the very last minute and then Harry apparated Hermione to the apparition point in the DMLE. After checking out the department’s secret pun chart, Harry said he would come to get her at the end of the day so that she could use their apparition point to get home.

“I don’t want you getting in trouble for abusing your position,” Hermione said, pulling her robes back on. 

“Oh, please. Kingsley loves you. I’ll give him the heads up that you need to avoid the press for a few weeks and he’ll understand.”

“Thank you, Harry,” she said, wrapping her best friend in a hug.

“Anytime,” he reassured, patting her back.

* * *

  
  


Charlie was packing up his gear, getting ready to head home when the lounge door banged open and his fellow dragon tamer, Ian, clomped in.

“Hey, Weasley. The day go well?” Ian asked, pouring a cup of coffee and resting against the table.

“Can’t complain. That Short-snout still has a touch of scale rot so he’s still in quarantine and the Fireball’s eggs are showing cracks. Should have a nest of hatchlings within a day.”

“Sounds good. How’s your sister doing?”

Charlie rolled his eyes and zipped his pack up. “Still married, Ian.”

“Yeah, but not for long, right? I mean, now that Potter’s shagging Granger.”

“What the fuck are you on about? Harry and Hermione are not shagging.” 

“Not what the Prophet says.” Ian pulled out a rolled-up newspaper and tossed it to Charlie. 

With a sigh, he unfurled the evening edition of The Daily Prophet and was met with a large picture of Hermione holding onto Harry as they pushed through the reporters. The headline read  **Heroine’s Secret Love Uncovered!** Of course, the name underneath was none other than Rita Skeeter. Should have known it wouldn’t take that gossip-monger long to start fueling rumors about Hermione. The woman knew how to hold a grudge and any chance she got over the last eight years she dragged Hermione’s name through every mud patch she could find.

“It’s a bunch of Rita Skeeter bullshit,” Charlie said, scanning the article. According to Skeeter, Hermione had returned to the country to rekindle a secret affair with The Chosen One (Why they still insisted on calling Harry that, Charlie would never know). Rita’s “concrete proof” was the mark on Hermione’s neck and the “intimate way” she was “clinging” to Harry. 

Ian leaned over and pointed to the spot on Hermione’s neck that was momentarily visible when she ducked her head. “We both know those marks don’t happen on accident and you can’t say they don’t look close.”

“They are close. They’re best friends!” Charlie shook his head and rolled the paper back up. “Honestly, Ian. I thought you knew by now to take Skeeter with a grain of salt.” He threw his pack over his shoulder and waved as he headed out the door.

“Char, that’s my paper,” Ian called.

“Have a good night,” Charlie called back.

Back in his own flat, Charlie dropped his pack by the fireplace and sat down at his kitchen table and gave the article a more thorough read. 

_ “It would appear Harry Potter has grown weary of hiding his true affections for Miss Granger. Their torrid romance goes back over a decade, to when they were both fourth years in Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. At that time The Boy Who Lived was competing with Quidditch star, Viktor Krum, for Miss Granger’s affections. It would appear the tables have turned and now it’s Miss Granger’s turn to compete against a Quidditch star for the love of The Chosen One.” _

“Oh, fuck off,” Charlie barked, slapping the paper back down. “Not your best work, Skeeter. Not even close.”

He leaned back in his chair and frowned at the picture of Harry and Hermione. This was exactly why Hermione left the country and if these arseholes didn’t let up they’d drive her away again. 

Charlie jumped up and opened the cabinet above his sink. He grabbed the green tin of teabags in the corner and took the floo to Hermione’s flat.

When he stepped out, he took off his boots and called out for Hermione but was only answered with silence. He peeked into the kitchen and found it empty so he ventured up the small hallway and knocked on the closed bedroom door. A pitiful whimper came from the other side.

“Hermione? It’s Charlie. Can I come in?” All he got was another whimper. “Was that a yes?”

“Come in.”

Charlie opened the door and frowned at the lump in the middle of the bed, covered in blankets. He walked around to the side of the bed and sat down beside her. Reaching over he ran his hand over the top of the blankets and said, “I really hope I’m rubbing your back.”

Hermione let out a loud whine and threw the blankets off of her. Her curls were half frizz and sticking up everywhere. “It’s not fair, Charlie! All I want to do is do my job and help others! Why does that Skeeter bitch have to interfere in everything?” She screamed and pulled the covers back over her head. 

“Oh, Q.” Charlie set his tin down and swung his legs up on the bed. He pulled her onto his lap and peeled the blankets back from her face. “I’m so sorry. She’s a ruthless, conniving bint. That’s why you kept her locked in a jar.”

“I know,” Hermione sniffled, giving him a small watery smile. She pushed her hair out of her face and wiped her eyes. “I don’t care what she says about me but she crosses the line when she brings my friends into it!”

“Ginny knows you and Harry aren’t having an affair.”

“I know that! The family hopefully knows that. But now those piranhas are going to be after her and Harry and...and, oh fuck! The boys!” 

The thought of James and Albus getting thrown into the mix seemed to be the thought that broke her. She collapsed against Charlie and sobbed into his chest. 

“It’s going to be alright, I promise,” Charlie said, stroking a hand over her hair. “This isn’t the first time Harry and Ginny have had to deal with a situation like this. After they got married, The Prophet accused Harry of having an affair at least once a month. Any woman they saw him conversing with was automatically a mistress.”

“Yeah but I’m not some no-named intern that’ll get forgotten in a week!”

Charlie sighed. “Where’s that mobile thingy of yours?” Hermione wiggled around and then held up her phone. Charlie flipped it open and started pushing buttons until he saw a list of contacts pop up. He hit the down arrow until it landed on  _ Harry P. _ and then pressed the call button. 

“Hey, Hermione,” Harry answered.

“Harry, it’s Charlie.”

“Charlie? Where’s Hermione? Is everything alright?”

“Have you seen The Prophet this evening?”

“You know we don’t let rubbish like that in the house. What’s going on?” In the background, Charlie could hear a scream and Harry shouted, “James! Get off your brother’s head!”

Charlie laughed and said, “Rita Skeeter is spinning her usual bullshit. Think you could find yourself a copy and call us back?”

“Actually, I just noticed there are about five owls pecking at the kitchen window. Give me a minute.” There was a clunk as Harry set the phone down. He could hear the boys screeching in the background as Harry greeted the owls, immediately followed by “Fucking cow!”

Charlie felt Hermione laugh against his chest. 

Harry’s voice sounded over the phone again. “Yes, Daddy said a bad word, but it was for a good reason.” Pause. “No, you don’t have to tell Mummy. Merlin’s sake...Charlie?”

“Still here, mate.”

“Put me on speaker, please.”

Charlie held the phone down to Hermione. “How do I do that?” Fingers with chewed up nails creeped out from under the blanket and pushed a button. “Can you hear me, Harry?”

“Yes. Hermione?”

“I’m here,” she croaked, lifting her head.

“Right. Don’t worry about any of this, okay? This isn’t the first she’s pulled this shit with me and I’d bet my Gringotts vault that she already has a retraction written because she knows I’ll be coming after her.”

“But what about Ginny?”

“Good point. I should let Gin go after her this time. It is her turn and not only will we get a retraction but a full-page apology and fruit baskets too…”

Charlie laughed and his heart lifted a bit when he saw a smile play on Hermione’s lips. He gave her shoulder a squeeze. 

“The main thing is to just ignore it all. Come into work tomorrow through the Auror department and I’ll send out for lunch. Once Skeeter has to backtrack on all her lies it’ll all die down. Hang on a minute.” It sounded like Harry walked away from the phone as he scolded, “No, Albus. We don’t say that word. James, stop provoking him”

“Harry, go tend to your children,” Hermione called with a laugh.

“Are you going to be okay? You can always come over if you need to”

“Thanks but I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.” 

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

“Love you, Hermione.”

“Love you, Harry. Give the boys kisses for me.”

Hermione closed the phone and tossed it onto her bedside dresser before letting herself fall out of Charlie’s lap, face-first into her pillows.

“I brought along something that might help you relax,” Charlie said, summoning the tin back to him.

“Is it a tranquilizer dart that will knock me out for a week?” Hermione mumbled. She turned her head and gazed up at him. He handed her the tin. “Tea?”

“Look inside.”

Hermione popped the lip open and peeked in. “Again, I ask, tea?”

“You have to dig a little deeper.” Charlie reached in and pulled out the old teabags.

Hermione’s face lit up and she let out a little cackle. “Charles Weasley, you deviant!” She pulled out a clear pouch of weed and a pack of rolling papers. “Where did you get this?”

“Perks of working on a secluded dragon reserve. Lots of space and privacy to grow our own.” Charlie grinned at her and dug a lighter from his pocket. “Balcony?”

“No, my bed isn’t out there. We can just open the window and put the fan on. Here.” She handed the pouch and papers to Charlie. “I’m shite at rolling.”

While Charlie rolled the joint, Hermione opened the window above her bed and turned on the ceiling fan. When she relaxed back against the headboard, she summoned two cans of pop.

“No wine tonight?” Charlie asked, licking the edge of the paper and rubbing his thumb over the top to seal it. When he glanced back to Hermione she was staring at him, her bottom lip clenched between her teeth. “You okay?”

She blinked and gave her head a slight shake. “Yeah, uh, sorry. What did you say?”

“I was taking note that we’re having pop tonight instead of wine.”

“Oh, yeah, I learned years ago that I can’t drink  _ and _ smoke. I turn into what people tend to call a buzzkill.” She handed him a can of Diet Coke.

“Fair enough.” He set his pop on the side table and lit the joint, sucking in a deep, first drag before passing it to Hermione and letting himself relax against the headboard. When his lungs started to burn, he closed his eyes and let out a slow exhale. “I usually reserve my stash for the weekends but I thought you might need a little release tonight.”

“Mmm, thank you.” Hermione took a long hit, letting some smoke seep out her nose. When she finally exhaled, she let out a little sigh. “I had such high hopes for the day. Leave it to Rita fucking Skeeter to ruin it.”

“Tell me the good parts.”

Charlie listened as they passed the joint between them and Hermione told him about her research and how she had actually gotten to have a proper conversation with Ron during lunch, after her and Harry’s escape from the lobby. She was hopeful that with the surprise of her return wearing off that Lavender would ease up on her hold on Ron when they were in the same room.

“So, I know it’s not my brother-in-law’s handy work and as my co-worker so eloquently put it, those marks don’t just happen by accident. Who gave you that nice little bite on your neck?” 

Hermione grinned and ran her fingers over the mark. “I took your advice and joined a gym.”

“Nice. How’s it working out?” Charlie passed her the joint and gulped the rest of his drink.

“I fucked my cycling instructor in the locker room shower this morning.”

The pop got stuck halfway down his throat as Charlie started sputtering. He winced as the fizzy drink dribbled out his nose and he pulled the hem of his shirt up to mop off his face.

“I’m sorry, was that too much information?”

“No, no, it’s cool,” Charlie wheezed. He cleared his throat and wiped his eyes. “That was just a surprising confession. Anyway, rebound shagging. Tell me about this instructor.”

“Her name is Isabelle and she has a body that looks like it was carved out of marble.” She took the final hit from the joint and tossed it into her pop can. “I swear Charlie, I’ve never seen legs like hers before.” She scooted down so that she could lay her head on the pillow. 

“How was it then?” He grinned and laid down beside her. 

“I’m not giving you all the sordid details,” she laughed, shoving his shoulder. “But, I mean, it made for a good morning and I’m taking another class on Thursday.”

Charlie hummed in approval, feeling certain parts of him starting to stir and twitch. Merlin, it had been so long since he had had a shag. 

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you.” She laughed and shoved him again.

“How can I not? I mean, I only have to imagine what one of you looks like naked. I still have vivid details filed away about the other.” He arched a knowing eyebrow and relished in the flush creeping up her face. 

“You don’t remember what I look like naked,” she muttered.

“Do so.”

“It was one time and we were drunk.”

“I wasn’t drunk.”

“I wasn’t either,” she whispered. “If you weren’t drunk, why did you kiss me?”

“Because I really really wanted to. Why did you kiss me?”

“Because I’d had a crush on you since I saw you wrangling dragons in my fourth year.” Her eyes went wide and she rolled onto her back with a groan. “Did you lace your stash with Veritiserum?”

“Nope, just boring old Kush.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. She stared up at him, eyes full of worry. “I hope you haven’t spent the last eight years thinking I regret anything that happened that night.”

Charlie went to stand but Hermione’s hand clasping around his wrist stopped him. When he turned back to her, she had gotten to her knees. Her tongue darted out, licking her lips. 

“I should--”

Before he could finish his sentence she had pulled him back to the middle of the bed and crashed her lips into his. Charlie didn’t hesitate to reciprocate. He’d be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t thought about snogging her senseless since her return. 

Hermione’s tongue swept over his and he brought a hand up and stroked his thumb over her cheek. The feel of her hands fisted in his hair set his insides on fire. He desperately wanted to deepen the kiss, rip her clothes off, and fuck her into the bed.

Luckily Hermione’s senses came back to her and she pulled away before he could act on any of those thoughts. She licked her lips again and smoothed Charlie’s hair back into place. 

“Sorry,” she murmured.

“Don’t be.” He kissed her temple and shuffled off the bed, not even attempting to hide the bulge that was now straining against his jeans. “If you need anything…”

“I know. I will,” Hermione said, sitting back on her heels. “Thanks, Charlie.”

He grabbed his tea tin and nodded. “Goodnight, Hermione.”

Once home, Charlie barely made it to his bedroom before he had his pants around his ankles and his throbbing cock in hand. Memories of Hermione naked, veiled in the moonlight and pressed against him that hot August night had his hand stroking his prick tight and fast and then quickly spilling himself on the duvet 

“Probably not the smartest move, Charlie,” he muttered, casting a cleaning spell on his bed and kicking pants off the rest of the way. He let himself fall onto the bed and sighed. Merlin be damned, smart move or not, he wouldn’t hesitate to repeat that mistake. 


	4. Chapter 4

_ Hermione sat on the bank of the pond. She swished her bare feet back and forth in the water, sending ripples through the reflected moonlight. Resting back on her elbows, she listened to the distant music and laughter. She could pick out Ginny’s shriek and Fred’s ensuing laugh. She was really going to miss this chaos. _

_ “Isn’t there a rule about buggering off from your own going away party?” _

_ Hermione startled and whirled around. Charlie Weasley was standing over her, two bottles of Butterbeer in his hands and a smile on his face. _

_ “I just needed a bit of quiet. I’m not planning on staying gone long.” _

_ “I think they all assume you went to the loo.” He handed her a Butterbeer but didn’t sit down. “I hope you don’t mind that I followed. I got a bit worried when you didn’t come back but I can leave if you want some privacy.” _

_ Hermione smiled and shook her head. “You can stay. You’re one of the quiet ones.” She looked back across the water and sipped her drink. _

_ “Wanna take a walk?” _

_ Hermione looked up again to see Charlie holding out his hand to her. Her heart beat a little faster at the thought of being alone with him. She had had a crush on him for so long now and here he was actually seeking her out. _

_ ‘He’s not seeking you out. He came to check on you, like the little sister he sees you as,’ her brain scolded as her heart shouted back, ‘Shut it!’.  _

_ “Hermione?” _

_ “Yes, sorry. A walk sounds nice.” She reached up and took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. His palm was warm and rough with callouses and Hermione about melted when he didn’t let go and guided her to the path that wound around the pond.  _

_ After a minute of walking in silence, Charlie stopped and asked, “Where in the bloody hell are your shoes?” _

_ Hermione glanced down at her feet and then back up, saying, “I left them back in the tent.” _

_ “You’re mental,” he chuckled and then continued walking. “Let me know if your feet start hurting.” _

_ “And if they do? Will I get a piggyback ride out of it?” Hermione said, quirking her mouth in a sly smile. _

_ Fuck! Where did that flirtiness come from? _

_ “If you’re lucky,” Charlie said, echoing her smile and causing Hermione to stumble a few steps. “You sure you’re okay without shoes?” _

_ “Yeah, just the after-effects of whatever was in those shots George and Fred poured,” Hermione lied. _

_ “That stuff was quite potent,” Charlie laughed. They walked a bit further before he said, “So, you’re really leaving all of us, huh?” _

_ Hermione frowned. “I wish people would stop saying it like that.” _

_ “I’m sorry, Q. I was just teasing. I understand why you’ve made the decisions you did.” _

_ Hermione sighed and fought back the tears that were threatening to spill. “They found out about what I did to my parents.” _

_ Charlie let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I saw. Did Mum tell you that she started a campaign to get Rita Skeeter fired?” _

_ “It doesn’t matter. The whole wizarding world could sign it and The Prophet would use it for kindling. All that matters is that that cow makes them money and they don’t care who she hurts to do so.” Hermione spotted a clearing under a large oak tree, a few meters ahead, and she gestured to it. “I need to sit for a minute.” _

_ “Are your feet hurting?” _

_ “No, just my heart.” _

_ Charlie nodded and led her over to the spot. Hermione sat down on the grass and pulled her knees up to rest her forehead against them. Closing her eyes, she took slow deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. She was helped along by Charlie’s hands rubbing slow, firm circles over her neck and shoulders.  _

_ “You know, you don’t have to leave,” he whispered, so close to her she could feel his breath graze her ear.  _

_ “And you know I can’t stay here. I finally get to have a life and I can’t live it on a tightrope. I won’t.” She glanced back and his blue eyes were filled with sadness. “Will you visit?” _

_ He gave her a sad smile and scooted forward. “Every time I’m in Spain.” Hermione rested against his shoulder and he kissed the top of her head. “I’m glad I got to know you better this summer.” _

_ “Ditto,” Hermione hummed.  _

_ After a few quiet moments of listening to the breeze rustle through the trees, Charlie said, “I’m due back on the reserve early tomorrow so I have to go back to Romania tonight.” _

_ “Oh, okay,” Hermione said softly, disappointed that he wouldn’t be there to see her off the following day. She turned so that she could face him. “It’s probably best we say goodbye tonight anyway. It’ll be crazy tomorrow.” _

_ Charlie said nothing as he studied her face, bringing a hand up to smooth her hair back. Hermione’s eyes instinctively closed as she leaned into his touch. She wanted to remember every touch, sound, and feel of the man beside her. By this time tomorrow, she’d be in Spain and didn’t know when she’d get to see him again. _

_ When she opened her eyes, Charlie’s face was millimeters from hers. His tongue darted out, licking his lips before he shakily asked, “Can I give you a goodbye kiss?” _

_ “Yes,” she whispered, leaning in to close the distance. _

_ The kiss was gentle and his lips were soft and sweet against hers. He lingered, making Hermione momentarily forget how to breathe. _

_ “Charlie…” she sighed, opening her eyes once more. _

_ His hand cupped her cheek and he smiled. “I don’t think you know how amazing and beautiful you truly are. I hope you find what you’re looking for in this next chapter.” _

_ ‘In for a pence, in for a pound,’ Hermione’s mind rationalized before grabbing Charlie’s shoulders and pulling him back to her. He didn’t object. His arms wrapped around her waist and he let Hermione set the pace. When her tongue brushed against the seam of his lips, they parted and let her in. When her curious hands tugged his shirt up, he obligingly held up his arms and let her strip it off. _

_ Every fantasy she’d had of a shirtless Charlie Weasley didn’t compare to what was at her fingertips. They danced over freckled skin, tanned by the sun and stretched tight over defined muscles. His copper locks were like silk between her fingers. And when his strong hands dipped under her shirt and spread across her stomach, electricity coursed through her body from head to toe.  _

_ Completely forgetting about what she was wearing and only thinking about her need to feel Charlie’s body against hers, she grabbed the hem of her shirt and attempted to pull it over her head. As it was a button-up, it got stuck halfway up her torso. _

_ She heard a low chuckle as Charlie tugged it back down. “May I?” he asked, his hand hovering at the top button. Hermione could only nod and watch as his hand deftly undid each button, then pushed the shirt off her shoulders and tossed it behind him.  _

_ Charlie reached out and skimmed his fingers across the lace trim of her bra. His hands snaked around her back and those nimble fingers made short work of the clasp, allowing Hermione to peel it away and drop it to the side.  _

_ He wandlessly summoned his shirt and rolled it up. “Lay back,” he coaxed, placing the shirt under her head before it the earth.  _

_ Charlie’s mouth was like a bit of heaven. He nipped and sucked down her neck and across her collar bone. His hands grazed up her sides and came to rest on her breasts, lightly squeezing them. When he replaced his hands with his tongue and laved it over a nipple, Hermione gasped and her hips bucked up. She moaned when she made contact with his still clothed erection.  _

_ “All in good time, love,” he promised. He undid her jeans and pulled them down over her hips, along with her panties.  _

_ As he kissed a trail up her legs and thighs, Hermione realized what else was included in Charlie’s foreplay. She was hit with a bit of nervousness and about to voice her concern but then his tongue was between her folds and all thoughts melted away. _

_ It felt so. Fucking. INCREDIBLE! Fuck Spain. She could live out the rest of her days under this tree, letting Charlie’s tongue surge in and out of her core and coil around her clit. A delicious ball of heat built in the center of her abdomen and radiated out as her breathing sped up. Charlie’s hands held onto her hips, gently pinning them to the ground as he continued to lavish her pussy. _

_ “Charlie, I’m so close,” she panted, tugging at his hair. _

_ His eyes flicked up and locked with hers and she could see the pleasure swirling in them.  _

_ “Go on, let it go, darling,” he purred, placing his tongue back on her swollen clit.  _

_ Hermione whimpered and writhed under his hold. She let loose a long moan of ecstasy when he plunged two fingers between her folds and beckoned them against a spot she had yet to hit on her own. The ball of heat inside her exploded and she shattered, crying out the name of the man responsible for her undoing. _

_ “Have I told you how beautiful you are in the last five minutes?” Charlie’s voice rumbled as he crawled back up her body and kissed her neck. _

_ “That was so...good,” she gasped, at a loss for any other words. _

_ Charlie gathered her in his arms and pulled her onto his lap. At some point, while he had Hermione blissed-out, he’d shucked over his trousers and pants and his cock was twitching at her entrance.  _

_ Hermione placed a hand on either of his cheeks and brought his lips to hers. The taste of her orgasm lingered on his mouth and she found herself surprisingly turned on as she sucked in his lower lip and tugged at it with her teeth. _

_ “I bet you feel like liquid luck,” he murmured against her mouth. He pulled back and, seemingly out of nowhere, held up a condom, snagged the wrapper in his teeth and ripped it open. “I can’t wait to find out.” _

_ He kissed and sucked at her neck as he took his cock in hand and lined it up with her entrance. Then he locked eyes with her once more and whispered, simply, “Hermione?” _

_ “Please, Charlie,” she answered. _

_ That simple plea was enough. He eased himself in until he filled her. The initial pain was quickly replaced with euphoria as he held her tight and slowly thrust in and out of her. She felt the ball of fire in her abdomen reignite and grow with each gyration.  _

_ She laced her hands behind his neck and he gripped her arse, firmly holding her against him as his pace quickened. The friction against her clit turned her fire into an inferno and she clung to him like a life preserver, his name a fevered prayer she repeated over and over _

_ “Just like liquid luck,” he growled, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into her. “So sweet...so fucking sweet.” _

_ Hermione’s body started to quake and pulse around Charlie’s thrusts as the fire of her second orgasm consumed her. Charlie’s lips covered hers, quelling her the passionate scream that was about to erupt. _

_ One of Charlie’s hands slid up to her back, pressing her even closer to him as his hips snapped roughly against hers. His thrusts were hard and frenzied, punctuated by grunts and the slap of sweaty skin. Then all at once he stilled and buried his face in her shoulder with a muffled cry of, “Hermione.”. _

_ His hot breath, contrasted with the chill of the breeze, sent shivers down Hermione’s body and she clung tighter to Charlie. _

_ “Sorry,” he rasped, pulling back. He summoned her shirt and wrapped it around her shoulders. He looked into her eyes and brushed away the sweaty tendrils that clung to her face. “That was--” _

_ “Perfect,” Hermione finished, scared of what descriptor he had in mind. Merlin help her if he said mistake. He may as well bury her, right here and now.  _

_ “I was going to say unexpected but I like perfect.” He kissed her one more time before slipping out of her and helping her to her feet. “I should probably get you back before the going away party turns into a search party.” _

_ “Probably best,” she whispered, gathering up her discarded garments. _

_ “Hermione.” _

_ She looked back at Charlie and froze. Where the hell did the raven tattoos come from? Those weren’t there ten seconds ago. _

_ “Don’t sleep with your cycling instructor.” _

_ “What?” _

_ Charlie started speaking again but Hermione couldn’t hear anything over a sudden screeching noise. Were the twins setting off fireworks? She glanced at the sky and saw nothing. When she brought her gaze back, Charlie was dressed in a blood-stained t-shirt and walking away. _

_ “Charlie?” Hermione called, trying to raise her voice above the persistent screeching. “Charlie! Stop! Come back!” _

Hermione gasped and opened her eyes. She smacked her alarm clock, silencing the screeching. Collapsing back onto her pillows, she kicked the sweat-soaked sheets and blankets off her equally sweaty body. She was glad she lived alone because she was pretty sure she had been screaming out Charlie’s name.”

Ever since her impulsive kiss, their one night together had been playing over and over in her dreams. It never ended the correct way, though, and Hermione didn’t need to be a psychiatrist to know why her subconscious was torturing her in that way.

The actual night ended with Charlie walking her back to the party and Ron getting suspicious, asking why her hair was so messed up. Hermione lied, of course, and said she had tripped over a tree root and fell into the brush. Charlie sat beside her when Fred and George did eventually set off their fireworks, every now and then nudging his knee against hers and then they’d share a secret smile.

That night, he kissed her cheek and said, “See you soon, Q.” And the following day Hermione moved to Spain to start her new life, away from the constant scrutiny of the press and the clean slate she’d be longing for. She started her new job with the Spanish ministry and waited for word from Charlie about how soon she would be seeing him.

She waited and waited...and waited. But there was no visit. Not even an owl. Hermione was confused and upset at first, and then insanely angry. Eventually, the anger faded to mild annoyance when Ginny and Harry would bring him up during their visits. When she was contemplating taking the offer from the British Ministry, she resolved that if and when she saw Charlie Weasley again, she’d put it all behind her and be friendly with the man.

She was doing such a good job too! He was still the same sweet Charlie she remembered and Hermione found it easy to fall back into a friendship with him. But then he had to talk about that night and she couldn’t keep her stupid lips off of him. 

Now she had spent the last month avoiding him but her mind wouldn’t let her do that completely. She met him in her dreams, almost every night, in one form or another. She knew she’d have to talk to him again at some point. She was running out of probable excuses to skive off Molly’s Sunday dinners.

Pushing her dreams to a dark corner of the mind, Hermione pulled herself out of bed and got ready to head into the Ministry. That afternoon she was meeting with the department head about an upcoming international conference and she thought it was the perfect opportunity to present him with her research and proposed laws. 

She still was still apparating in and out through the Auror department. Harry had been right. Rita Skeeter had a retraction written and ready to go when Ginny arrived at her office first thing the next morning and there was a basket filled with fruit and pastries waiting on Hermione’s desk when she had arrived at work. Since then, her name had been left out of the paper except for a few instances when she ventured into Diagon Alley and they would snap pictures and debate the practicality of her purchases. Hermione found it incredibly dull and slightly pedantic but, in the end, couldn’t care less if the wizarding world approved of her choice of quills. 

“Hello, Auror Kingsley,” Hermione greeted as she passed him on the way to the DMLE break room.

“Good morning, Miss Granger,” Kingsley replied, dipping his head in a bow. “Any plans for the weekend?”

“Absolutely nothing, just the way I like it.”

“Well, I hope it is thoroughly enjoyable.”

In the breakroom, Hermione found Harry and Ron sat at a table, chatting about cases. Harry spotted her first and waved her over, holding out a cup of steaming coffee. Hermione eagerly accepted and selected a sausage roll from their breakfast cart.

“Charlie was asking about you last night,” Ron said, looking up at her.

“Oh. What was he asking about?” Hermione asked, nervously chewing on her bottom lip.

“Nothing much, really. Just said he had something to give you before he left for his week on the Poacher’s Post. I think he leaves tonight so he might stop by your place before he goes.”

“Okay, I’ll keep the floo open. Sorry, I can’t stay long this morning. I have to go over my materials and make sure everything is ready for my meeting this afternoon,” Hermione explained. “I just wanted to pop in and say hi.”

“Good luck. Come up afterward and let me know how it went,” Harry said, giving her an encouraging smile.

“Thanks!” She waved and made her way to her office to prepare.

After lunch, she knocked on her department head’s office door and Gregory Wallace called, “Come in.”

“Hello, Mr. Wallace,” she greeted, taking the seat in front of his desk and placing her folder of information on her lap. “How are you today?”

“Busy, so I’d like to make this meeting quick.” Wallace pulled a sheet of parchment from his IN box and started making notes on it. “The conference is in France this year. You leave on August ninth and it lasts a week. Here are your hotel confirmation and itinerary for the week.” He passed the piece parchment, along with several others, across the desk to her. “You’ll find all the portkey information on the last page. Any questions?”

Hermione blinked, sidetracked by how quickly Wallace was trying to get rid of her.

“Yes, actually, I was hoping you might take a look at the research I’ve been doing.” Hermione handed her folder to him and continued, saying, “I’ve been looking into laws of other countries and put together a set of laws that would be extremely beneficial if we could get them implemented on an international level.”

Wallace opened the folder and his eyes flicked over the first page before he closed it and pushed it back to her with a curt, “No.”

Gobsmacked, Hermione took the folder back. “No? But, sir, you barely read--”

“Miss Granger, this isn’t what the Ministry is concerned about right now. This conference is our first priority right now. Perhaps when you return we can go over your pet project there.”

Hermione’s hands clenched her folder at the words ‘pet project’. “Mr. Wallace, please, I put a lot of work into this and the conference would be the perfect opportunity--”

“This conference is the perfect opportunity for the British Ministry to regain a positive standing in Europe. All we want from you right now is to go there, smile, and reassure the other governments that our Ministry has spent the past decade rebuilding and revising our standards.”

Hermione swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “You want me to simply be the poster child for the Ministry? Parade me around like some sort of trophy, proof that you finally have the support of the entire ‘Golden Trio’?”

“Your words, not mine,” Wallace said, gathering up another stack of parchments.

“Un-fucking-believable,” Hermione laughed, jumping to her feet. Wallace started to say something else but she paid no attention as she stormed out of the office and slammed his office door. 

As she passed her own office, Hermione summoned her purse and then continued to the DMLE’s floor. Luckily Harry’s office door was open so she could barge right in without breaking her angry stride.

“Hermione?” Harry said, putting his quill down and quickly standing. “What’s wrong?” 

“They don’t care!” Hermione cried, wiping the tears from her eyes. “They don’t give two shits about me, Harry!”

Harry hurried over to close his door and cast a silencing charm. Hermione told him about what had just transpired in her meeting.

“I can’t do this! This is exactly why I left in the first place and why I was so hesitant to come back!”

“I have a free hour. Why don’t we go get a drink at the cafe?” Harry suggested.

Hermione sighed and shook her head. “I’m going to head home and figure out what my next step is.”

“Promise me you won’t do anything rash, please?” Harry said, clasping her hand.

“I won’t. I just need to get out of this place and have space to think.”

She hugged Harry and then hurried out of his office, to the apparition point.

* * *

  
  


Charlie glanced around his flat one more time, making sure he had everything packed that he would need for his watch week. All his clothes and equipment were packed. On his table sat his green tea tin and a busted watch that was due to turn into a portkey in fifteen minutes. Just enough time for him to swing by Hermione’s flat to drop off the tin and make sure she wasn’t planning on avoiding him until the end of time.

He wasn’t quite sure what she had been thinking after that kiss and he had been scared to confront her about if it meant anything at all. So he hung back and waited for her to come to him. 

When he stepped out of Hermione’s floo, she was coming out of her bedroom with a suitcase in hand. They both froze for a moment, taking in their individual states. 

Hermione’s eyes were red-rimmed, with streaks of mascara tracking over her splotchy cheeks. She had on jeans and a faded Cure t-shirt, with her hair pulled back in a messy bun.

“Taking a trip?” Charlie asked. 

“I need to get away. You?”

“It’s my week to patrol for poachers. They have me stationed in Switzerland this time. What are you running from this time?”

“Don’t say it like that,” Hermione snapped, grabbing her suitcase and moving to the kitchen. She locked her balcony door and pulled the curtains closed. “I was finally clued into the real reason I was given my position with the Ministry.”

“And?”

“And?” Hermione crossed her arms and glared at him. “And it’s shit! And all the people in charge are bastards! And I don’t want to be used. And...and I am so god damned exhausted. Mentally and physically exhausted and I can’t be here right now.” She took a breath before asking, “What are you doing here?”

“You seem to have been avoiding me the past few weeks, I figured you’ve been a bit stressed. So I thought I’d drop off this,” he held up the tin, “and make sure the avoidance wasn’t going to last eight years this time.”

Hermione let out a noise that seemed to be between a laugh and a sob. “You can be a real arse sometimes.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I’m not the only one that runs away and avoids everyone.” She ripped a paper towel from the roll beside her and wiped her eyes. When she looked at the towel she swore and started scrubbing at her face. “Fucking mascara,” she muttered, aggressively rubbing at her cheeks and making them even redder.

“I’m not the one running away. I’m leaving to do my job. A job I chose because I  _ enjoy  _ it.”

“Oh, you can just fuck right fucking off!”

“Mature, Granger.” He glanced at his watch. “I don’t have time for this. My portkey is about to activate.”

“Whatever.” She walked past him, smashing her shoulder against his arm. It barely jostled him but he heard her hiss. When he turned around he saw her rubbing her shoulder.

“Come with me,” he impulsively blurted out.

“You’re insane.”

“Look, you want to get away. I need to get to my post. And it would appear we need to have a fight.”

“I don’t want to fight with you, Charlie,” she muttered, shoving last-minute items into her purse.

“I don’t want to fight with you either but I think we need to. I think it’s been brewing for eight years.” He pulled the broken watch from his pocket. It was starting to glow. “You in or out?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes as if studying him for ulterior motives. Letting out a dejected sigh, she threw the purse over her shoulder and grabbed her suitcase. “You and me on a secluded Swiss mountain. What could go wrong?”

He grinned when she grabbed an end of the leather strap. “You can spend the entire time screaming into the abyss if you want.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Hermione said in a faux cooing voice. “I would never go so far as to call you an abyss.”

_ ‘This is a fucking brilliant plan, Charlie,’ _ his brain said, giving his arse a mental kick. Before he could properly respond, a blinding blue light burst from the watch face and an invisible hook seized Charlie’s navel, sucking him through the opened portal. 

As soon as they were spat back onto solid ground he heard Hermione gasp and swear. Sweeping his hair out of his face he saw she had her arms wrapped around herself and her teeth were chattering. He had completely forgotten in all their arguing that where he was heading to was going to be covered in snow. 

“Shit, sorry, Q. Come on.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and guided her to the cabin. As soon as they were inside, he tossed logs into the fireplace and started them burning and then went back out to summon their things. He opened Hermione’s suitcase to get her a sweater but all he found were swimsuits, shorts, tanks, and one pair of jeans. “What the hell did you pack for?”

“Did I invite you to rummage through my personal belongings?” Hermione snapped, appearing beside him and slapping his hand away from her clothes. “I was planning on going to a place that still knows it’s summer, not the bloody summit of the Alps.” 

She pushed all her things to the side and pulled a red hooded sweatshirt from the bottom. After she slipped it over her head, she stalked back outside and slammed the door. A minute later he heard a shrill scream rent the air. No words, just a long, drawn-out scream. He shook his head and couldn’t help but laugh. He had told her she could scream into the abyss.

While Hermione let out what was sure to only be the first round of pent up frustrations, Charlie put the tea kettle on the stove and took stock of his rations for the week. The previous dragon keeper hadn’t left behind much. He had enough to cobble together toasted cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. First thing in the morning, he’d fly down the mountain and find a town to get more.

When Hermione came back in, she didn’t say anything. She grabbed her suitcase and headed back the short hallway where the bedroom and bathroom were located. He quietly snorted when he heard her mumble, “One bed. Perfect,” before she moved to the bathroom and shut and locked the door.

Charlie was just setting the food on the coffee table, so they could eat by the fire when Hermione came back to the living room. She had washed her face and brushed out her hair. He handed her a spoon as she sat down on the cracked leather loveseat. 

“Thank you,” she said, dipping it into the soup and giving it a stir. 

“Prawn cocktail or cheese and onion?” Charlie asked, holding out two packages of crisps.

“Decisions, decisions,” she sighed, wrinkling her nose and taking the packet of cheese of onion.

“What’s wrong with prawn cocktail?”

“Everything.” She ripped open the pack and sprinkled a few crisps into her soup.

“Yet, there’s nothing wrong with that?” Charlie teased, side-eyeing her soup addition.

“It’d be better if they were salt and vinegar.”

“Noted.” Charlie plunked down in the armchair across from her. He bit into a corner of his sandwich and watched as the fire popped and crackled behind the iron grate. The only other sound was the crunching of Hermione’s soup.

As he was tipping the crumbs from his crisp packet into his mouth, Hermione finally spoke.

“You never visited.”

Charlie looked over at her but she was turned away from him, staring at the fire. “After you canceled on the second family dinner I kinda figured you were avoiding me and I didn’t want to come around when I wasn’t wanted.”

“I’m not talking about that.”

He could see the fire reflected in her hazel eyes and they were glistening with tears. Shit. He really was an arse. Honestly, he was lucky that that was all she had called him. Well, at all that he knew at least. He can only imagine how she had cursed his name in the past years.

“I waited for you, you know?” She swiped a hand across her cheek. “I know we never made anything exclusive or official but I thought I would at least get a letter from you. A memo would have been better than to be kept on the hook and feeling used.”

Hermione stood and finally looked at him. There was none of the earlier anger on her face, only sadness and disappointment. “I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier. I haven’t been having the easiest time since returning to the U.K. The breakup was harder on me than I wanted to admit and, to be honest, still stings. I spent so much time doing research for my job and then came to find out my job was nothing but set completion. And now I’ve been having these vivid dreams that leave me disoriented and confused and a bit…” she let out a breath before finishing, “nevermind. I’m just tired of feeling used and you taking a dig about my job was the proverbial straw.”

She rubbed her hands over her eyes and yawned. “I’m going to bed,” she sighed and gave him a little wave before disappearing into the bedroom.

Charlie closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the chair. He had always been a coward when it came to confronting his own feelings and other’s feelings towards him. Tonight not only confirmed that but also the fact that he was an insensitive jerk on top of it.


	5. Chapter 5

When Hermione woke the following morning, it took her a few moments to remember where she was. She glanced out the window and saw fine flurries lazily falling to the ground. Throwing her hoodie over her tank top, she padded out to the living area. 

It was a quaint little cottage, obviously not meant to house more than two people at a time. There was a small kitchenette, a two-person table against the wall, and the squashy armchair and loveseat around the fireplace. 

The first thing that caught her eye was a wrapped parcel on the loveseat with a note stuck between the strings. She plucked the note from the wrappings and read-

_ Q- I flew down into town for food and supplies. Help yourself to anything and everything in the cupboards. I don’t mind making a second trip if need be. I also got you some warmer outerwear if you want to venture outside. I’ll be back from my first patrol at 4. -Charlie _

Hermione untied the strings and let the paper fall away. There were two wool sweaters, a puffy pink parka, and a set of black wool gloves, scarf, hat. She grimaced at the color of the jacket but couldn’t help but smile, knowing that Charlie had thought about her comfort during his supply run. 

She had really wanted to go off on him the previous night but after screaming her lungs out, her rage had diminished and she was left with only sadness and exhaustion. It had been a relief, afterward, to get everything that had been weighing her down off her chest. She knew there was plenty more to discuss, and they would that evening, but she hadn’t the wherewithal to do a deep dive at that time.

After she took the clothes to the bedroom, Hermione perused the cabinets for breakfast. She was in the mood for something she didn’t have to cook but was left wanting. There were three boxes of cereal- Chocolate Shreddies, Sugar Puffs, and Frosties. Charlie apparently had a strong sweet tooth. She shook her head, imagining the horrified looks her parents would give to that selection. In the end, she scrambled some eggs, heated up some beans, and layered those on some toast. 

After a hot shower, she slipped into a pair of jeans and one of the new sweaters. Back in the living area, she snooped through the other cabinets, curious what amenities the cabin had. Aside from the usual Muggle fire extinguishers and first aid kits, there was a small stereo with a cassette deck and a basket of tapes. Hermione hauled the stereo out, set it on the table, and plugged it in. 

The basket of tapes held a few actual albums- Oasis, U2, Stone Roses- but most were mix-tapes, labeled in various colors and handwriting. Setting aside Stone Roses for later, she took a chance and popped in the tape labeled “Summer Tunes ‘96”. It was refreshing to know burly dragon tamers were just as dorky as junior school students. She hit play and Three Lions started blaring from the speakers. It appeared as though one of the tamers was an England football fan. 

Hermione let the music play and moved to the coffee table. She found some writing materials in the drawer and chose a notebook and pen, not feeling up to messing around with quills and ink. She curled up on the loveseat and tried to concentrate on brainstorming ideas on how she would handle her work situation when she was back in England. 

It wasn’t long before she jumped up and changed the tape. After the third reprise of Three Lions, she couldn’t take it anymore. She was having flashbacks of her father singing it over and over that summer, leading up to the European Championship, and then the ensuing weeks of muttered curses against the German team and Gareth Southgate.

Hermione popped in an 80’s mix and snuggled back on the couch, relaxed by the sounds of Depeche Mode. By three o’clock, she had filled half the notebook and made her way through the most appealingly labeled mix-tapes. Standing and stretching out her muscles, she tossed her filled pages on the table and got the parka from the bedroom so she could explore outside. 

The sudden shock of cold the night before had prevented her from properly taking in the scenery. Now, standing on the porch and looking out over the mountain range, Hermione was awestruck. All she could see were snow-capped peaks, piercing a bright blue sky. Swiftly passing clouds made it impossible to see where the mountains met the earth and she briefly wondered how far away from the nearest village they were. She slowly toured around the cabin, taking in the full, panoramic scene. 

Hermione stopped when she came to a small fire pit that had been built up with a hodgepodge of rocks. There was a chill in the air but had yet to become frigid. Set on seizing the last few decent daylight hours, Hermione grabbed some logs from a nearby pile of wood, tossed them into the pit, and used her wand to set them ablaze.

Inside, she took stock of the refrigerator contents. Most of the food was bought with convenience in mind, but she found a few pieces of meat and fish wrapped in butcher paper. Deciding on the two salmon filets, Hermione mixed up a simple marinade with oil and spices. The vegetable selection was all frozen but it’d work in a pinch. Fifteen minutes later, the salmon was wrapped in tin foil with carrots, broccoli, and diced potatoes, and cooking atop the oven rack Hermione had moved the firepit. Stone Roses was playing on the stereo pressed against the open window and Hermione was contentedly reading a novel about Anne Boelyn in a conjured chair. 

The sound of boots crunching over snow roused Hermione from sixteenth-century England. Looking up, she was met with the windswept image of Charlie Weasley approaching, a broomstick on his shoulder, and a pink tinge on his cheeks.

“Hey,” he greeted tentatively, leaning the broomstick against the cabin. “I see you found the music.”

“Yes.” Hermione marked her page and asked, “Who is ‘Summer Tunes ‘96’?”

“That would be Paul.”

“Muggle-born?” 

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Three Lions.”

“Oh, Merlin!” Charlie laughed. “He drove us bloody insane with that song! Is it possible to know everything about a person without actually knowing who the person is? Because I swear I know every reason why this Gareth Southgate bloke is a ‘useless bellend who couldn’t score in the Red Light District with all the gold in Gringotts’.”

“Pretty sure that list would match my dad’s.” Hermione smiled and gestured towards the fire. “Supper should soon be ready.”

“Where’d you get the cooking rack? And what made you want to cook in the great outdoors.”

“The oven and the view,” Hermione answered. She leaned forward and stoked the coals. “What part of the Alps are we in?”

“Weisshorn. It’s one of the areas that have the least amount of Muggle tourists. Without magic, it’s a difficult climb.”

“It’s gorgeous up here. Thank you for getting me warm clothes so I could enjoy it.”

“You’re welcome.” Charlie gave her a small smile. “You are planning on eating inside, though, right? I’ve been on that bloody broomstick all day and the cold has seeped into my bones.”

“Kinda hard to wield a knife and fork with gloves,” Hermione said, holding up her hands. “Go on in and warm up. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Charlie went inside and Hermione spelled the tin foil to gently peel open. The salmon was perfectly pink so she wrapped it back up and sent it floating in after Charlie, then conjured a stream of water to douse the hot coals.

As she was setting out plates and cutlery, Charlie emerged from the bedroom in black lounge pants, an orange Cannon’s t-shirt, and wool socks. He stopped at the coffee table and shot a bemused look between the stack of papers and Hermione. He bent over and picked one up.

“Hermione, what is this?”

“I started brainstorming ideas about what I can do to improve my situation at the Ministry,” Hermione answered. She divided up the salmon and veggies and summoned Butterbeers from the refrigerator.

“Can I make a suggestion?”

“Sure.”

“Burn all of this and quit.”

Hermione snorted a laugh and glanced back at him. “I can’t just quit.”

“Why not?”

“Sit down and eat.”

Charlie tossed the papers back onto the coffee table and slid into a kitchen chair. “You still have to answer my question.”

“It’s my job. I can’t just quit it,” she answered, sitting down across from him. She picked up her fork and stabbed a carrot. “I’ll make it work.”

“You shouldn’t have to  _ ‘make it work’ _ . If you’re not happy there then you should leave and find something else.”

“It’s not that simple, Char.”

“Sure it is. People quit shitty jobs every day.” He shoveled in a bite of salmon and broccoli and studied her face while he chewed. He swallowed and then asked, “What were you hoping to get out of this Ministry position?”

“I want to help make life better for everyone in the wizarding community. You know, bring about equality for those that wizards usually snub their noses at.”

“Don’t need the Ministry to do that,” Charlie said, his cheek stuffed with food.

“I do if I want the laws changed.”

“Start your own foundation and influence the change from the outside. Tell me an issue you’d like to see dealt with.”

Hermione thought for a moment, mentally scrolling through the list she had tried to show Wallace the previous afternoon. “Lycanthropy. The majority of wizards afflicted with it are unemployed because the law states that they can’t be employed unless they can prove they’ve been taking Wolfsbane, uninterrupted, for a full year. Therein lies the rub, though, because since they’re not working they can’t afford a year’s worth a complicated potion. So they get stuck in this vicious circle that there is almost no way for them to break out of. The Ministry has a relief fund set up to help those that can’t afford the potion but the amount set aside is so small that it’s gone within the first month of the new year. Plus, with budget cuts, that fund is usually first to feel the hit and it consistently shrinks.” Hermione paused and took a deep breath before continuing. “This ends up putting a strain on other departments, especially the DMLE. They’re constantly stretched thin on the full moon because of attacks. Attacks that just add more victims to the unjust circle.”

Charlie frowned. He knew Bill had gotten off lucky when he was attacked. He had never fully realized just how lucky his big brother had been.

“I never knew all that. How did Remus skirt that law when he was hired at Hogwarts? I know he wasn’t taking Wolfsbane. Poor guy was locking himself in a cage, in his basement, every full moon.”

“You know how Dumbledore was. The man lived by his own set of rules.”

“And thank Merlin for that.” Charlie set his fork down. “So start your own foundation, raise your own funds, show people change is possible, and the Ministry will be forced to rewrite their laws.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Never said it was.”

“And where am I going to get the money to do this?” Hermione laughed, shaking her head. “I have a chunk of savings but what we’re talking about isn’t a small endeavor.”

“Hermione! You’re supposed to be the most intelligent witch of our generation!” Charlie cried.

“I believe the phrase is ‘brightest witch of her age’,” Hermione mumbled, shoving a forkful of potato into her mouth.

“Whatever,” he said, waving away the silly title. “You find investors and get a loan from Gringotts. Set up a headquarters and start schmoozing all those rich influencers. Once they see the name Hermione Granger, those pockets will open wide. If the Ministry is as desperate as you say they are, and I don’t doubt that fact, then they’re gonna bend over backward to keep their big benefactors happy.”

“I don’t want to use my name to get ahead!” She dropped her fork and roughly ran a hand through her hair. “That’s exactly what the Ministry is using me for! I’m not going to whore out my name to get ahead.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Charlie sighed, letting his fork clatter onto his plate. “You’re not ‘whoring out your name’, Q. It’s using your privilege to help lift people up that otherwise wouldn’t have a chance. Plenty of celebrities use their fame to bring overlooked issues to light. Would you call Bono a whore? Or Elton John? What about Princess Diana? If you sit here and say Princess Diana was a whore, I will throw you off this mountain!”

Hermione sat there, gobsmacked. After a few seconds of opening and closing her mouth, without any words coming out, she finally whispered, “Princess Diana was not a whore.”

“Thank you.” Charlie grinned and picked his fork back up. “You have a voice, Q. Use it. The Ministry is going to do nothing but censor you, so fuck ‘em. You deserve better. Always have.”

Hermione leaned back in her seat and let out a slow breath as Charlie’s words rolled around in her head. Why hadn’t she thought of this years ago? Why did she waste so much time behind a desk, arguing with immovable walls? She wanted to blame the disaster that was S.P.E.W. but she was so young then. She’d come a long way since her childhood crusades. And if she learned anything from those house-elves it was that sweetness won out over heavy-handedness. 

She jumped from her chair and hurried to the table strewn with papers. She gathered them into a pile and chucked them all into the fireplace. Watching them quickly turn to ash was cathartic in a way she never imagined. When the final scrap was incinerated, Hermione pulled out a fresh piece of paper and started outlining a new plan. Charlie sat down in the armchair with a satisfied smile on his face. 

“You’ll help me, right?” she asked softly, nervously chewing the inside of her cheek.

“In every way possible.”

* * *

  
  


Charlie watched as Hermione sat at the small coffee table, filling page after page with lists of possible investors, best locations, cost estimations, and a rough timetable. Watching her pour her heart and soul onto the pages was enthralling. 

He’d had the epiphany somewhere between the first poacher capture and lunch. How no one had suggested it before was beyond him, but he knew once she had the right seed planted in her mind, Hermione would have it blooming in no time. He had been slightly worried about how to broach the subject with her. The pages of desperate ideas about how to prove her worth to the Ministry was the in he was looking for. If there was one person on this planet that shouldn’t have to prove their worth, it was Hermione Granger. 

Which brought Charlie to his next hurdle…

He slowly stood and moved into the kitchenette to put the kettle on and busy himself while he decided on how to approach the eight-hundred stone Erumpent in the room.

In just about every aspect of his life, Charlie Weasley was fearless. He knew he wanted to stand toe to talon with dragons from the age of three when he got a picture book of magical creatures. In Hogwarts, he was the first to volunteer during Care of Magical Creatures, no matter what beast Professor Kettleburn trotted out. He had suffered burns, laceration, and broken bones with nary a flinch.

But when it came to the thought of relationships and rejection...Charlie Weasley was a fucking pansy.

He was mercilessly teased about it by his brothers. They all chalked it up to bad luck but Charlie knew he was just shite when it came to the subject. He was decently good looking and had an exotic, ‘bad boy’ career that drew women in, but as soon as he opened his mouth he may as well have shoved his foot right in. He’d inevitably say something he regretted and then try to backtrack on it, only to end up digging his grave deeper. The few women that had stuck around after the initial awkwardness didn’t do so for very long. They quickly grew tired of Charlie second-guessing every move he made. 

Somehow, Hermione had been different. The summer after the war, she had come to stay at The Burrow because her parents were still under the effects of her memory charm and she understandably didn’t want to go back home to an empty house. Charlie had stayed for the summer to help with the rebuilding and also with Fred’s recovery after being crushed by a wall. Hermione was having trouble sleeping and he had been used to crazy hours on the reserve so they spent many late evenings together, conversing and storytelling over tea and dinner leftovers. 

It hadn’t taken Charlie long to notice how different that Hermione was compared to the quiet girl who had kept Ron and Harry in line. He got to know her on a new level and see her intelligence and passion first hand. She had fought battles no teenager ever should, saw countless loved ones fall, faced death, and was able to come out the other side more caring and compassionate than ever before. He wasn’t sure how she did so but he was in complete admiration of it.

His feelings for her grew quickly. He didn’t want them to. He tried damned hard to put a lid on it. She was his brother’s best friend and he was sure that she only saw him as just another Weasley friend. Plus, she had made it very clear that she wouldn’t be staying in a country that only wanted to exploit her. Hermione Granger was never going to be interested in him on any level beyond platonic.

Until one night, when he walked her to her bedroom at some ungodly hour, she lingered in the doorway and pulled him in for a hug. For the briefest of moments, she nuzzled against the crook of his neck and placed a soft kiss along his jaw. She had quickly drawn away, muttering numerous sorries before saying goodnight and ducking into the bedroom. Charlie merely stood there in shock, his hand on the spot her lips had just been, wishing she would come back out. 

And then after the high of her going away party, well...all he could say was...pansy. He suspected Hermione was looking for a more in-depth reason for his sudden...what was the term he heard Lavender use the other week? Ghosting? He had ‘ghosted’ the most brilliant woman he’d ever met and never missed an opportunity to kick himself over it.

“Tea break?” Charlie said, holding a mug out to Hermione.

Hermione’s head bobbed but she didn’t look up as she said, “Just let me...finish this...last...sentence...done.” She placed the pen on the table and looked up at Charlie. “Thanks,” she sighed, taking the mug.

Charlie sat back down in the armchair and watched as Hermione took a tentative sip of her tea. She stayed seated on the floor, leaning back against the loveseat. He glimpsed a few smudges of ink on the fingers wrapped around the cup.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Charlie blurted out, “Q, I’m awkward.”

She let out a laugh and tea dribbled down her chin. Wiping her mouth on her sleeve, she nodded and said, “You don’t say?”

Charlie groaned and raked a hand through his hair. “After you left for Spain, the reason I didn’t contact you was that I was scared. It sounds pathetic and cliche, but it’s the truth.” Hermione kept her eyes on him as she moved from the floor to the loveseat, but said nothing so he continued. “I have the worst track record with relationships. They don’t last. That night of your party, I had every intention of keeping in touch with you. I had all this confidence built up that I could make it work, despite the distance in age and miles.”

“You’re not that much older than me, grandad,” Hermione quipped with a smirk.

“Shut it, you.” He pinched his lips before going on. “The next morning came and all these thoughts and fears came crashing down on me. What if I fucked it up like I always do? I chickened out because the thought of you hurting because of me was too much to bear.”

“And you thought ignoring me wouldn’t hurt?”

“I had hoped it would at least hurt less.”

“It didn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Charlie whispered, staring into his mug.

Hermione didn’t reply. When Charlie glanced up, she was staring at him, running a finger along the rim of her mug. Their eyes locked and she gave him a small smile.

“It was a relief to hear you say you didn’t regret anything. I don’t either, for the record. Never have.” She let out a sigh and set her mug down. “I was really upset and angry at first. Upset because I thought I had done something wrong, and angry because I didn’t know  _ what _ I had done wrong.”

“You did--”

“Not finished,” Hermione interrupted, her narrowed gaze quelling his words. “With time, I’ve come to see it as a blessing. When the hurt finally started to fade, I found myself with a new bit of confidence. That, paired with no expectations of who Hermione Granger was  _ supposed _ to be, allowed me to find myself in ways I never thought possible. So, in a weird, roundabout way, I’m thankful for your awkwardness.” Her lips quirked and she added, “I kept running into one minor problem, though.”

“What was that?”

“Whenever I was with a man, I always ended up comparing him to you and they never measured up. It’s probably the main reason all my serious relationships were with women.”

Charlie’s eyes widened for a moment before he cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter and said, “I, um, what now?”

Hermione laughed and stood, taking her mug to the kitchen for a refill. “I’m saying you, Charles Weasley, set the sex bar impossibly high for all the other men I have met.”

“I’m curious as to who my predecessors were that I’m the one that gets held up above them all.” Charlie’s face flushed and he added, “Unless it was Ron. I don’t want to know about his bar.”

Hermione paused mid-pour and turned back to him. “Charlie, there were no other ‘bars’.  _ You _ set the bar.”

No. No, no, no. He wasn’t...he couldn’t have been her…

“Hermione, I didn’t know…”

“Would it have made a difference if you did?”

“Yes,” he said instinctively before retracting and saying, “No. Maybe?”

“And that’s why you didn’t know,” she said, sitting back down, mug in hand. “I wanted everything to happen just as much as you.” She sipped her tea and he could see her let her body relax against the worn cushions. “Do you think about that night much?”

“More often than is probably healthy,” Charlie admitted, turning to stare at the fire. She wasn’t the only one that held that one night up as an unreachable standard.

“Yeah…”

For several minutes the only sounds were the pops and crackles from the fire. His eyes started to droop when Hermione spoke again, immediately garnering his attention.

“I’ve been dreaming about it lately. A lot.” 

He peeked to the side and saw she was still staring at the fire. 

“There have been so many mornings that I have to take care of...things...before I can get out of bed.”

“ _ Things _ ,” Charlie chuckled, draining his tea. His cock stirred and he tried to subtly adjust his posture to hide the fact. He blew out a breath and sighed, “Things…”

“When’s your next patrol?”

Charlie craned his neck to check the oven clock. It was six-thirty. “Not until four. It’s twelve-hours on, twelve hours off.”

“I didn’t realize you were up so early this morning. Did you sleep in the bed last night?”

As if on cue, Charlie yawned and shook his head. “Was afraid you’d just kick me out so I slept on the couch.”

“Oh, Char, you could have come to bed. I can’t imagine this thing is very comfortable for you.” Hermione stood and held out her hand for his cup. He passed it to her. “You should go lie down. I bet your legs are dying to stretch out.”

“Maybe a little bit,” Charlie admitted, standing and stretching out his back.

“Let me go move my clothes.”

He followed her into the bedroom and lit the candles while Hermione moved the clothes that he had gotten her that morning to her suitcase. 

“I must have been so out of it because I never even heard you leave this morning.”

“I can be stealthy when I want to be,” Charlie said with a groan as he collapsed on the bed. “Oh, yeah, this is much better than the sofa.”

Hermione laid down beside him, propping her arm up on her elbow. She rested her head on her hand and smiled down at him.

“What?” he asked, letting his eyes slip closed.

“Nothing,” she whispered. He felt her hand stroke across his cheek and comb through his hair. An involuntary hum rumbled in his throat as her fingertips brushed over his throat. “You should get some sleep.”

He felt her shift away to get up and his eyes shot open. He reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her back before she could stand. When Hermione looked at him again, it was with surprise and confusion.

He sat up and swallowed hard, gathered his courage, and asked, “Can I give you a goodnight kiss?”

Hermione huffed a laugh. “I’ve heard that line before.”

“No, that was goodbye. This is goodnight. Big difference, huge.”

“I think we both know it won’t be just a kiss.”

“I know,” he answered and held his breath, waiting for the response.

“Charlie,” she breathed, bringing her other hand up to cup his cheek. “You have no idea how much I want to, but…” she trailed off.

“But?”

“I’m broken, Char,” she said, choking up. “You don’t want me right now.”

He reached up and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “I can’t think of a moment when I haven’t wanted you.” Charlie gave her hand a tug, urging her to close the gap between them. He nudged his nose against hers.

She sucked in a steadying breath and whispered, “No expectations? No commitments?”

Crooking a finger under her chin, he slowly tilted her head back and said, “None,” before brushing his lips over hers. When her tongue darted out and licked his lips, he groaned and leaned in. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down on top of her.

He buried his hands in her soft curls and parted his lips, letting her tongue wrap around his. The kiss was slow and lazy and Charlie took his time soaking in every bit of the beautiful witch beneath him. Like her, he had dreamed of this moment many, many times but no dream would compare to the feel of her beneath him, writhing and whimpering with every touch.

Hermione’s arms unraveled from his neck and moved south. She grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it up. Charlie shifted to the side so he could grab the garment and pull it over his head, tossing it to the side. Hermione seized the moment to sit up and strip off her sweater, revealing no bra underneath.

Grazing a hand up her side, Charlie murmured, “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” before pulling her in for another kiss. Her soft hands slid up his chest and then down his arms as she pressed herself against his body. When her hips swiveled against his cock, he couldn’t hold back a moan as his hips bucked forward. 

“These need to come down,” Hermione panted, working the band of his lounge pants over his straining erection. “There’s something I’ve been longing to do that I didn’t get to do the first time around.”

Charlie knelt in the middle of the bed with his pants and trousers half down. Hermione’s hands cupped his arse cheeks and bowed her head to kiss along the lines of his adonis belt. When his cock twitched against her chin, she let out a hum of approval and bowed lower to kiss along the top of his entire length. 

A needy whine escaped when her lips came to settle at the tip, her tongue darting out to lick the accumulated drops of anticipation. When she instructed him to “lay down,” he didn’t need to be told twice. With his body sprawled in the middle of the bed, Hermione knelt between his legs and ran her hands up his thighs. They came to rest with one encircling the base of his cock and the other cupping his balls. 

“More perfect than I remember,” she purred, and then licked a strip up the underside of his cock. Once again, she rested her lips against the tip and he could feel her smile. Lazily...torturously...she’d bring her tongue out and circle it around the head, every other lick or so taking it into her mouth and then with a soft  _ pop _ , pull away.

“I don’t remember you being such a fucking tease,” Charlie rasped, raking his fingers through her curls. She gave his balls a squeeze and his breath hitched. “That wasn’t a complaint, just an observation.”

“Mmmhmm,” she hummed before slipping her mouth down his shaft.

“Oh, gods, Hermione,” he moaned, pulling on her hair as his hips canted up. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

She pulled back along his shaft and off his prick with another soft  _ pop  _ that left him wanting more. “Trust me, you are,” Hermione assured and then took him in her mouth again. 

Charlie’s eyes shuttered and he relished the licks and strokes and swirls as Hermione sucked him into a blissful haze. His insides were rapidly coiling and he knew it wouldn’t take much to bring him over the edge. As wonderfully sinful as Hermione’s mouth was, he had other plans for that moment.

Reluctantly, he gave her hair a tug and whispered, “Q, I’m too close.”

Hermione slowly pulled back, giving his cock one last lick before climbing up his body and devouring him with a kiss. He wrapped his arms around her and grabbed her arse, only to find she still had her jeans on. “What are these still doing here?” he asked, slapping her arse and making her squeak in surprise.

“Teasing you,” she laughed, nipping at his neck.

“No more teasing.” With another slap on her arse, he rolled her over and knelt above her, straddling her waist. She gazed up at him with heavily lidded eyes and a lazy smile. Summoning his wand from the dresser, he quickly vanished the constrictive trousers with a victorious grin.

“I hope you know how to bring those back,” she drawled, running a hand down his chest.

“You’ll get ‘em back...eventually,” Charlie smirked as he inched her panties down her legs. He sat back on his heels to admire the woman spread out in front of him. “How is it possible that you’re tan  _ all over _ ?”

“There’s this lovely nude beach in Cabo Pino that was one of my favorite weekend getaways.”

Charlie growled and buried his face in her neck, sucking and kissing his way down to her collar bone. “I really should have come to visit you,” he murmured, bringing his hands up to cover her breasts.

“Yes, you really should--ohhh,” She moaned as he rolled a pebbled nipple between his thumb and finger.

He lavished her other nipple with his tongue, swirling over the peak before giving it a gentle bite. Hermione’s hips grinded against him and his cock jumped in anticipation. “Give me just a little more time, love,” Charlie whispered.

He ran his fingers down her body and settled his hands on her hips. He lowered his face, nuzzling his nose against the trimmed patch of curls before running his tongue up her slit. He repeated that several more times, each time adding just a little more pressure until his tongue was snug between her folds and grazing over her clit. Hermione’s body jerked and her fingers threaded into his hair.

“Now who’s the fucking tease?” she gasped, grinding herself against his face. 

“Tit for tat, love.”

He eased his middle finger into her heated core, while still flicking his tongue over her clit.

“Charlie,” she moaned, drawing out his name and pulling his hair. 

He added a second finger and slowly pumped. When he found her swollen center, all it took was the slight beckoning of his fingers for Hermione to cry out and bring her walls crashing down around him. She rocked her hips up, pressing her clit hard against his mouth. She writhed against his face as he sucked and let her ride out every high of the orgasm. It had been so long since someone fucked his face like that and as he drank in the sweet smell and taste of her until he couldn’t stand not being inside of her one second longer. 

As he sat up and lined his cock with her gushing entrance, Hermione scrambled away and clambered up his body. Before he could protest the interruption, she wound her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a bruising kiss. When she finally pulled back, he pushed a few sweaty tendrils of hair from her face and grinned.

“Hey,” she panted.

“Hi.”

“I, um...I like the...uh, my...taste,” she stumbled over her words, ending in an apprehensive whisper. 

“And here I was, thinking you couldn’t get any sexier.”

“I don’t think it’s--”

Charlie kissed her again before she could continue her contradiction. 

“Trust me, it is,” he purred, nipping at her earlobe.

He felt her let out a long breath, as if relieved he didn’t find her kink a turn-off. He was just thinking that there wasn’t much she could admit to him that would be a turn-off when she interrupted his thoughts.

“Charlie, do you have a condom?”

He drew back and shook his head. “No. The bedmate was a last-minute trip addition.” He laughed when she slapped his shoulder. “Aren’t you on something? Potions or that Muggle pill?”

“I haven’t really had any use for those in the past two years.”

“Right.”

He chewed on his bottom lip, trying to remember the contents of the bathroom drawers. His cock was almost in pain, straining against Hermione’s naked body and begging for release.

“Right,” he said again, lowering Hermione back onto the bed. “I’m going to send up a prayer to all the gods and go search the bathroom.”

Springing from the bed, he dashed out of the bedroom, ignoring Hermione’s giggles. He knew he probably looked ridiculous, naked and panic-stricken, but the situation was devolving into a state of emergency. 

Charlie whipped open the drawers in the bathroom, tossing their contents hither and yon as he searched for a miracle. Some of the other tamers brought their partners up here on their watch. Surely one of them must have left behind a spare prophylactic!

He was in the process of emptying the small mirror cabinet when Hermione called his name. With one last, desperate look, he thumped his head against the wall before walking back to the room. 

Hermione was standing beside the bed, a square of foil in her fingers, and a smug smile on her face. 

“Bedside table,” she explained before he could even ask.

“Obviously.”

When he plucked the condom from her fingertips, her hands automatically moved to stroke his cock. His fingers stilled on the packaging and he rested his forehead against hers, attempting to even out his breathing as her soft touch glided up and down his shaft and fondled his balls.

“Gods, Q,” Charlie grunted. He ripped open the foil and gently, though agonizingly, pulled her hands away. He quickly rolled the condom over his weeping prick and spun Hermione so that he had her pinned against the wall. “I need to feel you.”

Placing her hands on his shoulders, she pulled her legs up and wrapped them around his waist.

“Don’t hold back, Dragontamer.”

With all obstacles out of the way, Charlie growled and slammed into her. She cried out and sank her teeth into his neck. He let loose another husky growl and continued to fuck her up against the wall; each thrust spurred on by her cries of “Yes! Fucking, yes!”. When he felt her tightening around his cock, Charlie pushed his hand between them and thumbed her clit until she erupted, drenching his prick in velvety warmth and sending him over the edge. 

“Fuck,” he sighed into her neck. He licked a few beads of sweat from just below her ear and gave the spot a gentle suck. Hermione shuddered and let out a whine of protest. Summoning his last dredges of strength, Charlie stumbled backward until they toppled onto the bed. “I do believe I will sleep well tonight.”

Hermione laughed and pinched his side before rolling off him. As she crawled to her pillow, Charlie summoned his wand and vanished the condom before joining her under the duvet and extinguishing the candles. Rolling onto his side, he flung an arm over Hermione and pulled her close. 

A content quietness filled the room for a few minutes, only the sound of their breathing punctuating the darkness. On the verge of nodding off, Hermione’s voice drew him back.

“Charlie?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“I meant what I said earlier.”

“You said a lot of things earlier. Can you narrow it down?” he mumbled.

He felt her stir and then roll over to face him. He could just make out the sparkle of her eyes in the sliver of moonlight streaming in the window. 

“I’m trying not to be, but I’m a broken mess of a person right now. I can barely handle a relationship with myself at times, let alone another person.”

“Hermione, it’s fine. No expectations, no commitments, remember?” She nodded and he pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head. “I may not be able to fix whatever’s broken but, if you let me, I can help hold the pieces together.”

She snuggled into his chest with a mumbled, “Thanks, Char,” before drifting off to sleep and taking him with her. 


	6. Chapter 6

The cabin door banged open, startling an already anxious Hermione. Charlie rushed in, locking the door behind him. He started to dash to the bedroom until Hermione called out, “I have everything ready!”

“I’m sorry Q,” he called back. He hurried to her side and grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “Our last capture didn’t give up easily and--”

“Charlie! Shut up and grab the watch!” Hermione interrupted, holding the glowing portkey in front of the redhead’s face. He latched onto the strap and seconds later they were pulled into the nether and then quickly spat out in the middle of Charlie’s living room. Hermione brushed her hair from her face and let out a long breath. “Cutting it close there.”

“We just can’t seem to get poachers to work with our schedule,” Charlie said, giving her chin a chuck. “Want to get a take-away before I go fall over for several days?”

“Thanks, but I’m gonna pop by Harry and Ginny’s place. I’m sure he’s been worried and I really want to show him my plans.” Hermione picked up her suitcase but then quickly put it back down as her eyes narrowed in on Charlie’s arm. “Another stray hex?” she inquired, leaning in to inspect the bloody wrapping around his bicep.

Charlie glanced down and swore. “No, the arsehole had a knife on him, fucking savage.”

Hermione sighed and vanished the wrappings. “Go wash it out before I heal it.” Charlie rolled his eyes but went to the bathroom, tossing his bag into his bedroom on his way. He returned quickly, dabbing a flannel over the wound. Hermione cast a spell and the skin knitted back together. “One of these days I’m going to give you a crash course on basic first aid.”

“I look forward to it.”

Hermione smiled and kissed his cheek. “Go get some proper sleep.”

“Gonna be hard with an empty bed,” Charlie said with an exaggerated pout.

“I’ll send you an owl tomorrow after I tell the Ministry where they can shove their collective wand.”

“Be nice. Don’t burn all your bridges.” Charlie kissed her head and gave her a playful swat on the bottom. “Good luck, love.”

Hermione heaved herself and her suitcase through Charlie’s floo and stepped out into Harry’s living room. Her legs were instantly locked together by a pair of little arms.

“Aunt ‘Mione!” James shrieked, bouncing on her toes.

“Hey, Jamie. Where’s--”

“Where the hell have you been?!”

“There he is.”

Hermione looked up to see a livid Harry Potter stalking towards her. She went to explain but was promptly cut off when he pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. James ran off, yelling, “Mummy! Aunt ‘Mione is here and Daddy said the bad word!”

“Shit,” Harry muttered.

“Bad word, Daddy.”

Harry and Hermione looked down to see Albus standing beside them.

Ignoring his son’s scolding, Harry turned back to Hermione and unloaded a deluge of questions. “Where have you been? Do you know how worried we’ve been? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Where the hell were you?!”

“Hermione?”

Ginny came in holding James, who had a smug look on his face as he stared down Harry.

“Hey,” Hermione said, giving Ginny a wave and scooping Albus up into her arms. “I’m sorry I made you guys worry, but I’m perfectly fine. I just had to get away for a bit and clear my head.”

“Okay,” Harry said slowly. “Were there no owls or phones where you went?”

“Umm, no, actually there weren’t,” Hermione answered, bouncing Albus in her arms.

“Where were you?” Ginny asked.

Hermione bit her lip, knowing exactly what was coming when she told them. 

“I decided, at the last minute, to go to Switzerland,” she said. She cleared her throat before adding, “With Charlie.”

“Charlie? As in my brother, Charlie?” 

Ginny put James down and he stomped his foot. “Mummy! Daddy said a bad word!”

“Take Al upstairs and play with your trains. I’ll talk to Daddy.” 

Hermione set Albus down and she watched as James took the little boy’s hand and led him to the stairs. When their footsteps faded. Ginny turned back to Hermione. 

“Did you sleep with my brother?” She asked, narrowing her eyes at Hermione.

Hermione sighed and waved off Ginny’s question. “Getting away gave me time to think long and hard about what I wanted to do about my job at the Ministry. I’m quitting.”

“What? Why?” Harry grabbed her arm and gave her a worried look. “Are you moving back to Spain?”

“No, I’m not moving away again.”

“Oh, thank Merlin,” he sighed, wrapping her in another hug. 

“I have something to show you. Can we move to the kitchen?”

“Sure. I’ll put the kettle on.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Ginny said, following them to the kitchen. “Did you sleep with my brother?”

“Gin, don’t ask questions you don’t really want the answers to,” Harry warned, filling the tea kettle and setting it on the stovetop.

“I do want the answer.”

Hermione groaned in defeat. She knew Ginny wouldn’t let up and if she avoided the question any longer, the stubborn redhead would go to Charlie.

“Yes, fine, I slept with your brother.” Ginny went to speak but Hermione kept going. “No, I didn’t plan it. No, I’m not dating him. Yes, he knows we are not dating. Please don’t tell the rest of your family. I’m pretty sure your mother already disapproves of my ‘alternative lifestyle’ and I doubt she’ll be happy to hear I’m casually shagging one of her sons.”

Harry arched an ‘I-told-you-so’ eyebrow at his wife as he set three mugs of tea on the table and then sat down beside Hermione. Ginny’s lips thinned for a moment before she nodded and said, “That’s all I wanted to know.”

“So, you’re quitting,” Harry said, breaking up some of the tension and bringing Hermione’s focus back to the reason for her visit.

“Charlie helped me realize that I was never going to be happy with the Ministry because I’m only going to be seen as a name there and not an actual person that could make a difference.”

“Hermione, you know that’s not true,” Harry started.

“But it is! Wallace all but said those exact words. All I’m going to be is the final piece of ‘The Golden Trio’. The only thing that matters to them is how our names boost their image.” Hermione opened her notebook and handed it to Harry. “I’m through playing games and jumping through hoops so others get what they want and I get sod all.”

“Hermione--”

“Harry, please. I know you and Ron don’t get to see this side of things because you get everything filtered through Kingsley. You’re on the force because you’re a good Auror and Kingsley knows that. I, on the other hand, have been told exactly why I have the position I do and it’s not because of my experience or passion. The Ministry wants to exploit me and I’m not going to let them. I can’t run away from my name but I can embrace the privilege that comes with it and use it to put some good into this world.”

Harry grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “If it means I get to keep my best friend close, I’ll help you any way I can.”

“Thank you because I am going to need a lot of help.”

Hermione sipped her tea while Harry read through her notes and timelines. Ginny cleared her throat and Hermione glanced up to see a sheepish look on her face. 

“You know Mum loves you no matter who you’re with, right?” she said softly.

“I know,” Hermione sighed, setting her mug down and running a hand through her hair. “At least, most of my brain knows. Sometimes I just feel like I get disapproving looks when I mention my past relationships.”

Ginny laughed and shook her head. “I think she just wants to see you find someone,  _ anyone _ , that makes you happy and you want to settle down with. She gives Fred the same look when he talks about the number of girls he dates and Charlie when he talks about his lack of dates. She just wants everyone to have their happily ever after.” She grinned and then added, “And grandkids. She wants The Burrow bursting at the seams with grandchildren.”

“Even more of a reason to keep my week in Switzerland with Charlie on the quiet.”

“This is brilliant, ‘Mione,” Harry interrupted. Hermione looked over to see he was already halfway through her notes. “I can’t believe you didn’t do this years ago.”

“I know, right?”

“I can even help you out right now with two things on your To-Do list if you’ll keep an open mind on both.”

“How open?” Hermione asked skeptically.

“Quidditch pitch open.”

“Go on.”

“I have an office space that you can have for free.”

Hermione’s eyes swiveled around, mentally thinking about the space in Harry and Ginny’s house. There wasn’t any extra space that could possibly serve as an office to run a business from without kicking one of the boys out a room.

“Are you planning on building an addition?”

“No, but Grimmauld Place is empty and in desperate need of an update. All yours if you want it. Free of charge, no strings attached.”

Hermione frowned. She had forgotten that Harry still owned that derelict museum of dark magic. They hadn’t done much to fix it up back before their fifth year when it was used as The Order’s headquarters. She loathed to think how much more disrepair the place had fallen into, especially without Kreacher there for any basic upkeep.

“You know I’m not afraid of a challenge, Harry,” Hermione started slowly. “But even with all the modern updates money could buy, I’d still be stuck with a place full of disembodied elf heads and a portrait that spews insane bigotry. No one can pry them from the wall.”

“That’s where my next suggestion comes in. You should hire Draco as your investment banker.”

“Draco?” Hermione’s face screwed up in confusion. “You mean, Draco  _ Malfoy _ ?”

“Do you know another Draco?”

“No, but how is the ferret going to help this situation?”

Harry summoned a quill and started scratching some of his own notes beside hers. “Since his probation period ended, Draco’s been trying to shine a positive light on the Malfoy name. He spent some time interning at the Ministry and just recently got hired on at a private firm. He’s having difficulty getting any clients to sign on with him though. If you hired him, this could be a big break for him”

Hermione sipped her tea and almost spit it out, not noticing the last few sips had gone cold. Pushing the mug away, she said, “I’m not quite seeing how this helps with fixing up Grimmauld Place?”

“Draco is part of the Black bloodline. If my theories are correct, there are things in that house that can only be removed by blood relatives.” Harry sat up a little straighter, a victorious grin spreading over his face. 

“But then why couldn’t Sirius…” Hermione trailed off before answering her own question, “because Walburga blasted him off the family tree.”

“Bingo.”

“How do you know all of this stuff about Draco?”

“We ate lunch together a lot while he was interning. Turns out, when you take away Lucius’ influence and the threat of death from a deranged dark dictator, Draco Malfoy is a decent bloke.” Harry tapped his quill on the notebook, bringing Hermione’s attention to an address he had written down. “Send him an owl. I know he’ll jump at this chance.”

Hermione worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She knew the war had changed many people and it was understandable that Draco Malfoy would be one of those. Hell, she was one of those many. But still, hearing his name after all these years brought up horrible memories of oversized teeth, hateful slurs, and constant torment. 

Letting out a slow exhale, Hermione nodded her head. “After all these years, I guess it’s time to bury that hatchet. I’ll send him an owl in the morning.”

“Great. I’ll open up the floos at Grimmauld Place so you can start coming and going as you please. If you want me to be there at the first meeting with Draco, let me know and I’ll make it happen.”

* * *

“Granger!”

Hermione jumped and smacked the side of her head with the hot flat iron. “Fuck,” she hissed, dropping the styling tool onto her bathroom counter.

“Granger!”

“Just a minute!” Hermione shouted. She dampened a flannel and held it to her burn as she stalked into the living room and glared at the face of Wallace hovering in her fireplace. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’?” Wallace growled. “You disappear for an entire week and then ten minutes ago I get a fucking notice of resignation! What is this all about?”

“You see, Mr. Wallace, a letter of resignation means--”

“I know what a letter of resignation is!” His hand came up and covered his face before continuing, “I’m want to know  _ why _ are you giving me a letter of resignation.”

“Because I’m quitting. I didn’t uproot my life to move back here and be used.”

“Is this about your little project on international laws? Come in and I will take a look over your research.”

Hermione shook her head, wincing as the cloth rubbed over the fresh burn. “Too little, too late, Wallace. But don’t worry, it’s not the last you’ll hear from me. Now, I have an appointment to get to so if you’d please, get your head out of my living room.”

Her ex-boss scowled and appeared as though he had more to say, but he let out a huff and disappeared. Hermione sighed and trudged back to the bathroom. A drop of Dittany on her burn soothed the stinging and dulled the angry redness to a pale pink mark. Carefully picking the flat iron back up, she went back to fixing her hair.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t slightly nervous about meeting Draco Malfoy that afternoon. Harry had called her that morning, offering again to come along, but she insisted that she could handle it on her own. She wanted to clear this hurdle on her own.

Hermione arrived at Grimmauld Place half an hour before Draco was scheduled to meet her. The house was a complete disaster. Harry never returned to the house after the war so it was almost in exactly the same state as that September morning when they had left to sneak into the Ministry of Magic. The only difference was much of the furniture was overturned and doors of cabinets and wardrobes were left hanging open after the Death Eaters’ search. 

Tiptoeing past Mrs. Black’s curtained portrait, Hermione went about setting the furniture back to rights and inspecting if any of it had been damaged beyond repair. She was pretty sure that Harry didn’t want to save anything from the house but there might be some stuff that could go to the antique shop. 

While touring the ground floor, searching for a viable office room, she heard her name being shouted, followed by the sound of a curtain whipping open and Walburga’s shrill wails.

_ “Blood-traitor! Filthy invert! Soiling my most noble house! Begone!” _

Hermione dashed to the parlor to find Draco Malfoy gazing up at the screaming portrait. His eyes were narrowed but a smirk played on the corners of his mouth. With a flick of her wand, the curtains slammed close and the horrible insults ceased. 

Hermione let out a heavy breath and turned to Draco. “If you can get her off this bloody wall, I will hire you on the spot.”

The patented Malfoy smirk finally emerged, along with a set of dimples Hermione had never noticed before. Pulling his wand from his robes, Draco slashed it through the air and the portrait dropped to the floor with the most satisfying thud.

“I’m looking forward to our partnership, Granger,” Draco said, smiling and holding out his hand.

* * *

Sweat poured down the back of Charlie’s neck as he lowered himself to the ground and collapsed against a tree. Summer was drawing to a close and Mother Nature seemed to be pouring the last of the heat into this one day. He wiped his face on his last clean bandana, but as soon as he pulled it away rivers of sweat reappeared. Tossing the bandana to the side, Charlie pulled the canteen from his rucksack and drank deeply, not minding when a bit dribbled down his chin and splashed onto his shirt. Inspired by that brief cooling moment, he magically refilled his canteen and dumped it over his head.

Charlie sank down a little further, savoring his momentary relief from the unrelenting sun. He had been hiking around the perimeter of the reserve all day, checking wards and nests. He’d reached the end of the checklist and now had the long trek back to the cabins to look forward to. As he closed his eyes, Charlie cursed himself for the millionth time that day for deciding to forgo his broomstick.

On the precipice of falling asleep, a sudden weight on his leg forced Charlie to open his eyes. A large eagle owl was perched on his knee, a sealed envelope clutched in its beak.

“Aren’t you a clever one, finding me all the way out here?” Charlie murmured, slowly reaching out and pleased when the owl let him stroke its feathers. “I assume that’s for me at least,” he said, reaching for the letter. The owl dropped the letter into his hand and continued to sit on his knee as Charlie read-

_ Charlie, _

_ I have officially resigned from the Ministry and was hoping you’d help me celebrate. How does curry and wine at my place sound? If you trust me, use this illegal portkey at exactly 4:05. Looking forward to your arrival. _

_ -Q _

Turning the envelope over, an oversized button tumbled into the palm of his hand. Charlie chuckled and tucked the button and letter into his jeans pocket. He dug into his rucksack and pulled out a sandwich.

“I don’t have a reply but here’s a snack for the road,” he said, offering a chunk of chicken to the owl. The bird nipped the bit of meat from Charlie’s fingers and took off. Checking his watch, Charlie saw he had an hour to make it back to the reserve and shower before the portkey activated. Or he could just fall asleep here with the portkey in his hand…

With a sigh and subsequent groan, Charlie gathered his things and pushed himself to his feet. He had no clue where the portkey would whisk him away to and he didn’t want to appear in the middle of a group of people, smelling like rotting mandrakes.

At five past four, Charlie was showered, wearing a fresh set of clothes from his emergency stash, and clutching the glowing button. Within seconds, he was dragged from the reserve and transported to a familiar dingy parlor. He could hear voices approaching from a room to the right. One voice was easily recognizable as Hermione’s. The second was vaguely familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. 

When they rounded the corner, Hermione caught sight of Charlie and her face lit up, pulling a smile from Charlie in spite of the now very familiar head of blonde hair beside her. 

“Aww, you do trust me,” Hermione teased with a grin.

“Of course I do.” Charlie flipped the button from his thumb and Hermione snatched it from the air. “You’d make a fair Seeker there, Q.”

“Good luck getting her on a broom.”

Charlie narrowed his eyes at Draco Malfoy’s comment, but the former Slytherin just laughed as Hermione said, “Shut it, Malfoy,” and gave his arm a playful punch.

“Why did you bring me to Grimmauld Place?” Charlie asked, pulling Hermione’s attention back to him. 

“Welcome to my new headquarters,” she announced, opening her arms. “Draco, this is Charlie Weasley. Charlie, this is Draco Malfoy.”

“I remember Mr. Malfoy. Nice to see you again.” Charlie held out his hand and Draco gave it a quick, firm shake. “Wasn’t there a bigoted old portrait here that screamed at everyone? And an equally nasty house elf that liked to mutter insults?”

“Kreacher has been at Hogwarts since before the war and as for Mrs. Black…”

“Kindling!” Draco happily declared. He turned to Hermione and said, “I should be going. I’ll stop by the office to grab those forms and owl them over to you. Make sure Potter gets his arse moving on transferring this property to you.”

“And I will get them back to you by tomorrow night.” Hermione walked with Draco to the floo in the sitting room. “Please talk to your mum about coming by to see if there are any heirlooms she might want.”

“I think she’ll like that. I’ll see you next week. Have a good night.” Draco nodded goodbye to Hermione and Charlie before stepping into the fireplace and disappearing in a flash of green flames.

Charlie blinked and shook his head before looking at Hermione and asking, “What is going on?”

“I’ll tell you over dinner. It’s been an interesting twenty-four hours. But first!” Hermione’s smile widened and she grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the stairway. “I need to show you something!”

Charlie followed her up the winding staircase, all the way to the fourth floor. She stopped on the landing and giddily asked, “Did you notice anything missing?”

“Err…” Charlie glanced back, trying to recall what the place looked like when he had last been there years ago. “I barely remember this place Q. I didn’t even know it had four floors,” he admitted.

“No elf heads!” 

Charlie grimaced. “Elf heads? Like, real heads? Of actual house-elves?”

“Yes! It was as barbaric and disgusting as it sounds, but Draco made them all go away!” Hermione let out a long sigh, her beaming smile still in place. “Curry?” She slipped past him and hurried back down the steps. Charlie couldn’t help but laugh at seeing how light and happy she was. It was a complete turn around from the way he had found her the previous week.

When he reached the ground floor, Hermione was on the phone placing a pick-up order with the curry house that was up the street from her flat. After hanging up, she quickly went about setting up the wards before they flooed back to her flat. 

“Up for a walk to the curry house?” Hermione asked, slipping on a sweater.

“Are you going to tell me why you can’t seem to stop smiling?”

“Of course. Let’s go.”

As they made their way up the street, Hermione practically skipped as she told Charlie about Harry giving her the Grimmauld house and how she had hired Draco on as her investment mentor but that he was also going to help her ‘de-evilize’ the Black house so she could turn it into not just an office but a safe house for those in need. He was able to get in a question or two when she stopped for breath but the entire trip to and back, Hermione talked about all the things she would be able to do with such a large house as her home base. Charlie didn’t mind at all. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen this side of Hermione Granger- passion pouring from her heart, unbeholden to anyone, and forging her own path. He couldn’t help but match her smile with every step.

As Hermione spread the food out on her coffee table, Charlie poured two glasses of wine and set them on coasters as he lowered himself to the floor. 

“You seem extra smiley today,” Hermione said, sitting down beside him. “Good day on the reserve?”

“Oh, Merlin, no.” Charlie dumped his chicken vindaloo onto his pile of rice and stirred it up. “It was my turn to check the perimeter wards and I’m pretty sure I sweated off a full stone walking around in the blasted heat.”

“What has you looking so pleased then?”

“You.”

Hermione paused, fork halfway to her mouth. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.” Charlie laughed and took a bite of his curry. “I like seeing you so happy. It makes me happy.”

Hermione grinned and popped a piece of naan into her mouth. “Well, I owe a lot of it to you, so...,” she leaned over and gave him a peck on his lips. “Thank you.”

“I do enjoy sweet rewards but I only just planted the seeds, love. Everything that comes after is all you.” Charlie leaned over and returned the kiss.

He went to sit back down but Hermione grabbed his shirt collar and held him in place and kissed him again. “How do you feel about cold curry?”

“It’s my favorite kind,” he murmured, tossing his fork onto the table and letting Hermione drag him to the floor.


End file.
